


Nezushi Kinktober 2017

by rat-tle-snake (NSEW)



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Attempt At Roleplay, Awkwardness, Biting, Bodyswap, Coitus Interruptus, Coming Untouched, Crossdressing, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Discussion Of Medical Roleplay, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Exhibitionism, Fallout References, Frottage, Gratuitous Appreciation Of Hair, Guns, Hair, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Height Differences, Kissing, Knifeplay, Lapdance, Laughter, Lingerie, M/M, Making Out, Masks, Massage, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Pets, Public Hand Jobs, Roleplay, Scars, Scents & Smells, Science Shion!, Self-cest, Shower Sex, Sickfic, Sleepy Sex, Stripping, Tickling, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 27,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NSEW/pseuds/rat-tle-snake
Summary: A compilation of unrelated, (debatably) kinky No.6 oneshots.Day 1: Sleepy sex (E)Day 2: Dirty talk (E)Day 3: Biting (M)Day 4: Knifeplay (E)Day 5: Bodyswap (T)Day 6: Size Difference (G)Day 7: Crossdressing (T)Day 8: Roleplay (M)Day 9: Lingerie, Frottage (E)Day 10: Gunplay (M)Day 11: Gags (T)Day 12: Hand Jobs (E)Day 13: Medical Kink (T)Day 14: Role Reversal (G)Day 15: Lapdances (M)Day 16: Masks (G)Day 17: Massage (T)Day 18: Masturbation (T, will become E)Day 19: Olfactophilia (M)Day 20: Pet Play (G)Day 21: Shower/Bath (E)Day 22: Scars (M)Day 23: Against A Wall (E)Day 24: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism (E)Day 25: Smiles/Laughter (T)Day 26: Mirror Sex (E)Day 27: Temperature Play (T)Day 28: Swallowing (T)





	1. shake off this downy sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinktober day 1: Sleepy Sex
> 
> Title from _Macbeth_ , Act 2 Scene 3.
> 
> Set in an ambiguous spot in the timeline, post-reunion. They're in their 20s.

The soft touches blended into Nezumi's hazy early morning sleep, and he barely registered them. It couldn't have been the wind, because the touch was too substantial, not could it have been leaves falling from the canopy above him, because rather than shivering in his sleeping bag, he was somewhere warm and safe. To Nezumi's half-asleep mind, that was all that mattered.

Until a touch strayed too close to his neck. It was still gentle, a whisper tracing the curve of his jugular, a warm breeze fluttering up the ridge of his trachea, but Nezumi was startled out of his torpor. He grabbed whatever was touching him, eyes snapping open. The serenity was shattered.

It wasn't, really. As soon as Nezumi realised out was Shion touching him, his grip relaxed. He was still holding Shion's wrist firmly, but no longer bruisingly so. Shion's face melted back into a content smile. A light blush dusted his cheeks, accentuating his reddish scar, and if Nezumi had been feeling poetic, he would have commented that he was seeing an angel. It would be an apt description -- the sunrise light from their bedroom window illuminated Shion's feathery white hair, bathing his entire head in a soft glow.

"Good morning, your majesty. Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's unbecoming of a gentleman to touch someone in their sleep, unawares?" Nezumi greeted him jokingly, then watched in amusement as Shion all but flailed backward in horror. He'd already been perched in a precarious position on the bed, but now he seemed like to fall off if not for Nezumi's grip.

"Ah! I'm sorry, Nezumi, should I have asked? Did I make your uncomfortable? I swear, for the most part, I was only observing you, becau-"

"As if watching someone sleep is any better?" He interrupted. Nezumi wasn't really bothered by Shion's endearing quirkiness, it was just that the airhead was fun to tease.

Shion looked like he was about to respond, probably with another barrage of flustered questions and apologies, so Nezumi tugged hard at his wrist. Shion sprawled forward and landed diagonally over Nezumi, who noted to himself that while certain people were airheads, they were most certainly not air _bodies_ , as they were _heavy_.

"Hey. Hey, stop worrying. It's different when it's just us, yeah?" Nezumi whispered into Shion's ear, the tone of his voice every bit as intimate as their proximity. Shion nodded, then rolled onto his side, pulling Nezumi with him. 

They laid like that for a while, simply absorbing the sight of one another, before Shion squirmed closer and tucked himself against Nezumi's chest. As Nezumi buried his face in his hair, delighting in the fluffiness of the white locks, Shion ran his hands over whatever he could reach of Nezumi. They slept shirtless, because the combined warmth of two living bodies beneath a thick comforter was too much, even with the crisp climate. 

Shion had never been so thankful of that fact, because it put Nezumi's torso on full display. He could feel the curves of his muscles, the lines and splatters of his scars, and it all made Shion feel overwhelmed.

Nezumi was beautiful like that, thought Shion. It was why he'd spent so long just watching Nezumi sleep, observing how Nezumi's face got so relaxed ands peaceful, and how his steady breaths -- irrefutable proof of how alive he was -- made his chest rise and fall. Suddenly his by the full force of his emotions, Shion surged toward Nezumi, legs tangling with his and arms encircling his body. He craved the closeness, the contact.

The sudden movement startled Nezumi, but he adjusted and was soon back to nuzzling Shion's hair It was just so appealing -- soft and fluffy, and carrying the vanilla scent of Shion's soap, of the bakery, of home. Both of his hands were buried in his hair, caressing the fluffy mass, but mostly just holding Shion close.

He must have tugged a bit too hard, thought because as he skimmed his fingers over Shion's head, Shion made a desperate sound and his entire body shuddered. Nezumi withdrew his face from the top of Shion's head to smirk down at him.

"Not quite such innocent intentions, hm?" he questioned, shifting his leg to emphasise the press of Shion's arousal against his thigh.

"'s not my fault," Shion said, voice muffled. "Even ignoring the fact that I'm helplessly drawn to you, you're objectively attractive and you're also physically stimulating me. As it stands, of course I'd be developing an erection in response to that stimulus, especially since I-".

"Hah. 'As it stands", Nezumi parroted back, unable to pass up the opportunity for a crude jest.

"Nezumi," Shion said, so flatly that the name itself may as well have been a rebuke.

"Shion," Nezumi copied him, with the same tone and inflection.

"Nezumi."

"Shion." 

"Nezu- _ah_!"

Deciding that saying nothing but each other's name was only acceptable under certain circumstances, Nezumi settled his thigh firmly between Shion's legs and pressed up.

Shion's hands scrabbled for purchase on his shoulders as he arched up and cried out. For a moment, Nezumi was taken aback at how enthusiastic and intense Shion's reacrion was, but then he smoothly repeated the motion with the intent of drawing more sounds from Shion.

Unabashedly, Shion slung a leg over Nezumi's hips and ground against him, and this time, it was Nezumi who couldn't control his voice. As much as Nezumi teased Shion about being sensitive, it wasn't like he himself wasn't aroused by the other. He pressed a kiss to Shion's forehead, then squeezed his eyes shut to try to regain his composure.

As such, he missed how Shion's hand snuck between their bodies to yank down his briefs. Nezumi only noticed when Shion started fiddling with his boxers as well. He lifted his hips to facilitate the action, then blindly reached behind himself to scrabble about the nightstand for lube. No point relying on saliva when there was such a concoction at their disposal.

Nezumi popped open the lid, and was about to squirt some onto his hand when Shion's hand suddenly closed around his dick. His fingers clenched, and the next thing he knew, Shion was jerking away from him and laughing as he tried to smear the glob of lube off of his chest.

Shion found it unspeakably amusing how such a simple movement from him could throw off Nezumi's graceful gestures so easily. He found it markedly less amusing when Nezumi regained his composure and reached out to entangle his fingers with those of Shion's slippery hand, then kissed him.

Although both kept their lips shut, the soft slide and press of skin on skin was enough to distract Shion from how Nezumi slipped his hand away. He lost himself in the sensation of Nezumi, ands let himself be swept away by the pleasurable storm.

When Nezumi pulled away, Shion's eyes fluttered open and his gaze landed on a devious pair of stormy grey eyes, darkened by arousal. And then his eyes slammed shut when Nezumi grabbed both their lengths and squeezed as he thrust up.

Shion made an incoherent noise, then sucked at Nezumi's collarbone to keep himself quieter. Sure, Nezumi was an actress who often wore low-cut dresses and thus required flawless, creamy skin, but as such, he was an artist with makeup. It wouldn't be too much if he left a mark or two, Shion reasoned to himself, although the distribution of blood to his brain was too low for proper reasoning.

Truth to be told, while Nezumi was disappointed that he couldn't keep kissing Shion, being able to bury his face into his hair while he got off wasn't a bad trade. Nezumi moved his hand lazily -- it was a weird angle after all -- and let their hips do most of the work. He tried to maintain a rhythm, keep himself steady, but it was difficult with how erratic Shion's thrusts had gotten; Shion was all but squirming against him.

Nezumi let the himself go faster for a while, then swiped his thumb over both of their tips, eliciting a cry from both of them. He repeated the action on his next upward stroke, this time more forcefully, and was shocked when Shion bit down on the side of his neck.

The bolt of pain somehow intensified his pleasure. Nezumi's back arched as he crushed Shion against him, then he shuddered as he came and went limp against Shion.

Nezumi's orgasm came as a shock to Shion, then a triumph, then as a frustration, because while Nezumi going to pieces was always hot, _he'd stopped moving his hand_. And with how closely he'd plastered himself to Shion, he couldn't even jerk himself off. He bucked his hips to try for even a bit of friction, and Nezumi exhaled shakily, shifting away from Shion and finally grabbing his aching arousal.

"A thousand apologies, my prince," Nezumi whispered, softly so as not to shatter the tranquility of the moment. There was something about words that destroyed the peace that incoherent sounds couldn't.

Nezumi propped himself up on one elbow so that he could focus on Shion's face as the other man lost himself, painting abstract splatters of milky white over a red-striped canvas.

Alluring, indeed.

He was sure his face was twisted into some vapid, lovestruck smiles but he didn't care. Shion had always been special -- sometimes, _too_ special.

Shion's unfocused expression suddenly brightened. "Good morning, Nezumi!"

"...what?"

"You said 'good morning' to me earlier, but I never responded. So I'm doing that now!" Then he leaned up, and his lips managed to brush Nezumi's cheek as Nezumi flopped face-first onto the bed in exaggerated gesture of exasperation.

All things considered, though, Shion was right; it _had_ been a good morning.


	2. speak low if you speak love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Dirty talk
> 
> This is also set post-reunion! Shion's working in the restructural committee and Nezumi's off on acting tours, performing everywhere, but they keep in touch.
> 
> Title from _Much Ado About Nothing _, Act 2 Scene 1__

Shion skimmed the last document on his desk highlighting and adding suggestions in the margins. He finished it quickly, signed his name to acknowledge he'd read the content, rn slid it into a file cabinet. As he closed the drawer, his phone began breeding incessantly. Shion slid it out of his pocket to silence it and caught a glimpse of the time : 19:00 sharp.

His dinner beak was an hour, starting now. At first, he'd protested that it was too much idle time, but now he appreciated it, because he could unwind and read for pleasure for a bit before diving back into th tedium of legal documents and proposals. He pulled out his pie and a copy of Wilde's _The Importance of Being Earnest_ , then slouched back into his desk.

He'd read the play before, but Nezumi was currently on tour performing the play, so he'd reread it again. Shion managed to read in peace for a while before his laptop went off and he scrambled to answer it. Nobody called him while he was at work except for Nezumi. He picked up the call and Nezumi's face popped up, his lazy grin illuminated by the dim lighting of a high-end hotel room.

"Hey," said Nezumi simply, tilting his chin just a bit.

"Hi, Nezumi! I just got on break, how did you kn-"

"Your schedule never changes, my prince," Nezumi cut him off and answered his question before he could even ask it. It was such a simple phrase, but it made Shion feel warm inside -- it was another small way Nezumi showed that he cared for him.

"Why'd you call, did you need something? Aren't you supposed to be at the Fourth City Theatre right now? Are you okay??" It wasn't that Shion minded having Nezumi on video chat it was just that he was worried and didn't want Nezumi skipping out on any of the acting gig he'd been so excited about. Between Shion's full day job, Nezumi's late rehearsals at his new acting gig, _and_ the three-hour time difference between No.4 and No.7, the two of them hadn't had much time to just talk, recently.

"Last showing was tonight, so I'm just skipping the afterparty. All they do there is drink and fuck, anyways, sometimes in character. Believe me, I do _not_ want to risk a run-in with the guy who plays Jack.

Nezumi was Gwendolen, and while he wasn't displeased -- she was a lead role in a delightful play and had a nice, ornate costume --, he did wish she had more witty lines. At least she wasn't completely vapid, though.

" You're too pretty for your own good, hm?" Shion teased, still drinking in the sight of Nezumi.

"Smooth. You can quit staring so intently anytime, you know? It's kind of weird. I'll be back in a few days, anyways, and the real thing is always much better than some grainy video feed."

Shion blushed at being caught. He was unabashed in his affections for Nezumi, but there was something about the way the other man called him out that made him feel flustered. Perhaps it was because he tghought of being able to feel Nezumi's warm body against his own, rather than just seeing him.

As if sensing the direction of Shion's thoughts again, Nezumi smirked. "How about we hold our own afterparty, right now? I've got the drinks, but it usually takes two to fuck." He leaned back on his chair and adjusted the camera angle, and Shion's screen suddenly showed a whole lot more of Nezumi.

"Nezumi!" He squeaked. "I'm not going to masturbate with you right now, I'm at work!"

"What's wrong? You have your own office for a reason."

"Yes, and it is not _that_ reason."

There was a bit of silence during which Nezumi trailed his hand down is chest and past the bottom of the screen 

"Alright then. Suit yourself, your majesty, ah!" Nezumi's hand moved, and while Shion couldn't see what exactly was going on, he could see the way Nezumi's body undulated, the way his hair trailed over his shoulders when his head tilted back.

The glint in Nezumi's darkened grey eyes told Shion that he knew _exactly_ how !much he was affecting him.

"Are you rally not going to join me, Shion? Not going to let me help you hit ah, ecstasy with my voice? Because I would, love.I know you find this embarrassing, so I'd start slow; I'd just hold you close first, and let you do that thing of yours where you desperately cling to me every time you start to get worked hip when we kiss for too long. Then I'd-"  
Nezumi cut off with a gasp, then several deep breaths as he struggled to regain control. Shion could see his arm stilling as his other hand clenched into a fist on his chest. If Nezumi was already so desperatel, Shion wondered, how long had he already been working himself up before he'd called? Or had it been a long time for Nezumi too?

He watched as Nezumi's face turned redder, perhaps in embarrassment at having lost his composure for a moment. It was unfair how attractive Nezumi was when h was vulnerable. It was _extremely_ unfair to Shion's erection, trapped and straining in his work slacks. He clenched his thighs and nearly whimpered.

Seeming to have recovered himself, Nezumi leaned toward the webcam and licked his lips, leaving them glistening. Shion stared, rapt, unable to tear his eyes away from the red lips, the deep grey eyes.

And then Nezumi adjusted the camera again, widening the shot and showing his entire body,and Shion's gaze immediately zeroed in on his cock. A moan escaped his lips before he could clap a hand over his mouth, and Nezumi's salacious smirk widened.

"Like what you see? I'm all yours for the taking, your majesty. How about I skip forward from the kissing to me, tracing the line of your beautiful scar all around your body? _Fuck_ , that's one hell of an image, Shion, it looks exquisite on you."

Nezumi was already touching himself again, one hand steadily stroking his cock and the other tracing across his cheek, his neck, his chest -- exactly what he'd do to Shion if they were together at that moment.

"But then, since you never seem to be able to take things sitting down, you'd flip us over and then it'd be you pressing me into the bed, bridging against my cock, ah, Shion, _Shion!_ "

Nezumi's back arched off the chair and his feet dug into the carpet for purchase. He was such a picture of raw, aching desperation that it physically hurt Shion to look at him, probably because his neglected erection was pulsing and starting to ache.

Shion couldn't go to his meeting in twenty five minutes like this, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he -- just this once -- quickly got himself off .It wouldn't take long, anyways, not with Nezumi so wanton on the other end of the call.

He'd just slipped his hand beneath the desk when he was interrupted by Nezumi.

"Didn't you say you weren't going to masturbate at work, Shion? I thought we kept our promises. Hands on the desk where I can see them," Nezumi commanded, staring Shion down until he grasped the edge of the desk.

"Nezumi.."

 

"At your service. Wait, Shion, look at your hads on the table, look at your face in the screen. Think you'd look just like that if I was under your desk, blowing you? You'd look the very picture of rapture, ah, , fuck, Shion. I want you in my mouth _so bad_ ," Nezum cut himself off, sliding a couple of fingers into his mouth and sucking on them as he writhed in his seat.

"That's- that's it, Nezumi, I'm turning you off."

"Don't think you can, not at this point."

"NNot what I meant. I'm turning off the video feed," said Shion, then did so. He immediately missed the sight of Nezumi, but at least he was no longer getting a show of Nezumi enthusiastically pleasuring himself.

"So you're an audio learner rather than a visual one?"

"No? I have an eidetic memory, remember?"

"Not like that, my airhead. I meant something along the lines of...this." Nezumi whispered, then did something to the mic that made his voice come out clearer than before.That, or Shion just managed to notice his voice more than ever because there was no erotic video feed to distract him.

Shion clencehd his eyes shut, one hand going to press the wireless headset tightly to his ear. Nezumi's harsh breaths and the sounds of skin sliding over skin came through his earpiece, and it made Shion feel shivery. He was starting to get off on being commanded not to, and had Shion been any less frenzied, he would have found it hilariously ironic.

"Where was I? Oh, right, sucking you off, driving you out of, of your mind, making you struggle to avoid crying out so loudly you'd scare everyone, ah, else in this building. I've taken you all the way down before, easily, and I could do it again, shit, Shion, that was-" Nezumi broke off with a moan an entire octave higher than his normal range.

Shion's hips jerked up agaisnt nothing, though at this point, even the slight stimulus from his pants was driving him crazy.

"I'd brace your hips against your seat, lick my way up your shaft, tongue at your slit unti you're prjecting well enough to audition in any theatre, and you'd, you'd get your fingers in my hair and tug and, oh fuck, Shion, I-!" And with a cry, the sounds from the earpiece ceased, save for Nezumi's shaky deep breaths.

Then Nezumi's voice returned, low and a bit haorse, and Shion felt like he was speaking direectly into his ear.

"I would tease you until you're positively begging for release, then I'd pull off of you, watch you squirm for a moment as I touch every part of you except your cock, and maybe I wouldn't even have to touch that to bring you off. Mayebe I coud just tell you to, to _comr for me, your majesty_."

Nzumi must have pulled some Singer-related power or something, because Shion could swear the timbre of his voice intensified and it heightened the aorusal in his body. The next thing he knew, he was clutching the desk again, curled over it as he shook in the throes of orgasm.

 

"Well, what do you know, that actually worked," Nezumi said, sounding infuriatingly smug and just a bit surprised.

Shion tried to muster up the energy for an appropriately peeved response, but one glance at his computer screen showed him he had less than ten minutes before his break was up. Less than ten minutes to gather his materials for the meeting, clean up the mess in his pants, and attempt to look like he hadn't just been very thoroughly debauched.

And by the time he'd found a way to communicate this all to Nezumi, the rat had managed to hang up already.


	3. I do not bite (my thumb at you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Biting  
> I would have written something NSFW, but I didn't have much time today. So here, have overtly sexual fluff. :3
> 
> Chapter title from _Romeo and Juliet_ , act 1 scene 1.

Nezumi never let him reciprocate. He'd blow Shion under a desk, or wake him up with a mouth on his dick, or kiss him against a wall until his knees went weak then hold him up by the hips as he brought him to climax with with a skillful tongue, as fluent over Shion's shaft as it was over poetry. But when Shion tried to return the favour, Nezumi would distract him with another heated kiss, pressing their bodies together as he grinded against him.

It wasn't that Shion was unsatisfied, so to speak, but he did feel like there was something missing. He loved the intimate connection of having Nezumi inside him or being inside Nezumi, he craved the rhythm of clutching to each other in lustful desperation as their erections rubbed together, and he treasured the fervent movements of quick handjobs when they had only a brief time together. He wasn't complaining about anything, he just wanted to know _why_.

He'd tried asking Nezumi on the spot, but the other man would just complain about Shion being a mood-killer, then render him incapable of coherent speech. Afterwards, the question always seemed to slip Shion's mind.

This time, though, he'd planned exactly when he was going to ask Nezumi: early in the morning, while they were both in bed, and before the day's responsibilities had a chance to sweep them apart. Nezumi was always most open during the mornings, when he was awake enough to function, but not aware enough to be wary of everything. Shion loved this brief period of vulnerability even more than he loved everything else about Nezumi, and that was saying something.

Shion's plan went into motion on a routine day. He woke up cold but with a warm lump against his back. Nezumi had, as usual, stolen the blankets, tangled himself in them, than attempted to cuddle Shion with trapped limbs. His dark hair trailed over the crimson sheets as he shifted, beginning to wake up.

"Morning!"

"Mmng," mumbled Nezumi in response, beginning to untangle himself from the blanket to tangle himself with Shion instead.

He arranged himself into a comfortable position for cuddling, then, once Nezumi's eyes seemed more lucid, he dropped the question.

"Hey, why don't you let me perform fellatio on you? You've demonstrated enough times for me to have picked up on the method, I think, but there's no way for me to be sure of that unless I can apply it practically."

Nezumi made a spluttering sound, thrown off by the implication and suddenness of the question. "Have you considered the following: Even though I play a woman on stage, I value all my appendages, not excluding the one between my legs."

"Of course…?" Shion asked, looking perfectly airheaded.

"You said your speciality was biting."

"Hm? Oh, Nezumi, that was _ages_ ago. I was talking about biting noses, not penises off, and it was because you were pinning me to the wall."

"Well excuuuse me for extrapolating, my prince."


	4. look like the innocent flower...but be the serpent under 't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Knife play
> 
> Alternate title: in which Shion is a lot kinkier than we all gave him credit for.
> 
> I realise this may be a bit OOC, but seriously, every time Nezumi threatens Shion, the poor kid looks like he's about to pop a boner. Granted, he did haveNezumi all pressed up against him, but...
> 
> Title from _Macbeth_ , act 1 scene 5

Of all the things Shion could have been into, Nezumi absolutely did not expect him to be into knives. With all that the two of them had been through, the fact that he was kinked for knives was infinitely strange. But then again, so was Shion.

He'd approached Nezumi on a day when neither of them had anywhere to be. Nezumi had been reading, sprawled loosely over the couch, and Shion had stood there, fidgeting, looking like he had something on his mind.

Nezumi let it go on for a few minutes, pretending to read as he watched Shion out of the corner of his eye, then memorised the page number he was on and set the book aside.

"Well?" he asked, inclining his head toward Shion, who visibly startled as he was acknowledged.

"Do you still have that knife of yours?" he asked, all in a rush.

"...yeah? Of course I do; why do you ask", Nezumi replied, hand darting down to check his pocket, in case Shion had decided to pick up pickpocketing, but as usual, its reassuring weight was present.

"Could you use it on me?"

"What."

Shion glanced off to the side as his face slowly coloured. "Remember back in our underground room when you used to pull your knife on me and immobilise me?"

Judging by the flustered expression on Shion's face and his hesitance, Nezumi felt like he knew where this was going. So he shot Shion a flat look, then, in a flurry of movement, sprang up from the couch and shoved Shion against the wall behind them, with knife out and hovering just above Shion's throat.

"Like this?" he said into Shion's ear, voice menacing, but also with a hint of concern. Nezumi had stumbled across books that mentioned erotic use of knives, and heard tell of people using knives on each other in a nonviolent, sexual context, but he'd never expected Shion to be one of those people.

"Yeah, _Nezumi_ ", Shion breathed, and with his face this close, Nezumi could see precisely how his pupils dilated and his lips parted. Some part of Nezumi had been convinced that Shion had been pulling an extremely uncharacteristic prank on him, but with so many physical manifestations of Shion's arousal in front of him, he couldn't deny it.

And he couldn't deny that he found his own heartbeat quickening as well. There was an uncomfortable pressure on the back of his mind, insisting that he was hurting Shion, that he _shouldn't_ be hurting Shion, but he ignored it. Shion wanted this, and well, why not?

"His majesty is nowhere near as innocent as the impression he gives off, hm? He seems not to be the flower anymore, but the serpent underneath 't."

Shion shuddered with a whimper, very much overwhelmed by Nezumi all around him, Nezumi pressing him into the wall, Nezumi's voice flowing into his ear. Too much blood was rushing out of his head and down between his legs, and he felt dizzy.

"Do you know what you're making me do? Remember how I said I'd never hurt you again? You must be... _mad_ , Shion, asking me to do this to you," Nezumi continued, still watching Shion completely fall to pieces at just his voice and the delicate press of metal against his throat.

Nezumi pressed the blade into Shion's skin, enough to prickle, but not enough to cut. It wouldn't cut, anyways; Nezumi had pressed the blunt edge to Shion's throat, but Shion couldn't tell. His breath hitched, then shuddered out of him with a high whine.

"And what did I say I'd do if you went mad?"

No response, except Shion's desperate panting.

"I said I'd slit your throat, but before that, I'd kiss you," Nezumi growled. He usually avoided recalling memories of anything that occurred when they'd taken down the Correctional Facility, but this was too good of an opportunity.

Shion's eyelids fluttered as Nezumi leaned even closer to claim his lips. Nezumi could feel his lips quiver, feel the heat radiating from his mouth, feel how much Shion wanted this, wanted _him_.

He parted Shion's lips with his tongue and delved inside. Even though Nezumi's stance remained as threatening and unwavering as ever -- body boxing Shion in and knife positioned at his throat --, he craved more of that sensual contact. His teeth scraped over lips and tongue as Shion started to respond, though his coordination was shot to hell with how turned on he was.

They kissed long and hard, and it was with great reluctance that Nezumi pulled back. He wanted to kiss Shion again, and again, and again, but instead, he gave himself a moment to take in how beautiful and _wrecked_ Shion looked.

And then he jerked the knife across Shion's throat.

Shion _screamed_ and curled forward, and Nezumi barely managed to flip his knife shut and shove it back into his pocket in time to catch Shion. He curled an arm around Shion's lower back protectively and stroked his soft white hair with the other as Shion shook in his arms, overwhelmed with the force and suddenness of his orgasm.

Eventually, Shion stopped trembling and his breathing evened out from the ragged panting of moments before. He looked up with a manic, adoring smile. His eyes were still hazy from arousal and adrenaline, his cheeks were still flushed, and Nezumi ducked his head to kiss him again, just a soft press of lips against lips.

"You alright?" Nezumi asked when they separated, his worry clear in his voice. He traced his fingers over Shion's throat as he checked to make sure he hadn't miscalculated his own strength and bruised Shion.

"Yeah. Nezumi, that was perfect," Shion said, still sounding distracted, then rested his face on Nezumi's chest again.

"'Course it was. Made you come really hard, didn't I?" Nezumi teased, his eloquence gone straight out of the window. "How did you know I wouldn't cut you?"

"I trust you. And you pulled it off somehow."

"I used the blunt side of my knife, you airhead," Nezumi replied, fondly.

Shion just mumbled vaguely in assent, so Nezumi sighed, then swept Shion up into his arms to take him to bed. Shion tended to get sleepy after particularly intense orgasms, and Nezumi was already getting a bit tired of holding Shion up.

He reclined on the bed, facing Shion, and entwined their fingers. As Shion's red eyes slowly shut, Nezumi drank in the sight of him peaceful and unharmed, and welcomed the fact that even though they were both beyond messed up, they were each other's home.


	5. disguise us at my lodging and return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Bodyswap
> 
> Title from _Merchant of Venice_ , Act 2 scene 4
> 
> Okay, I could have written bodyswap smut (and I would...totally...do it...), but this idea sank its teeth into me and wouldn't let go. I might continue it after Kinktober
> 
> Shoutout to [secretagentfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan) for the beta! You're awesome.

Shion had gone to bed exhausted from a long day, mind filled with the tedious, repetitive motions dealing with papers and plans and meetings and schedules. All in all, a typical night for him.

He'd woken up sore and freezing.

There was no warm, soft light hitting his eyelids, so it must be an awfully early hour in the morning. Still half-asleep, he reached to the side for his comforter -- he must've kicked it off sometime in the night. But rather than sinking into the soft cover of sheets, his hand hit something cold, damp, and chalky.

He shot awake, sitting up as his senses fully rushed back to him. He wasn't in his bed, he wasn't at home, and he _had no idea where he was_ , except that it was dark and the floor was dirt...and that there was hazy grey light glowing from a small distance away.

Had he been kidnapped? Shion knew that the best way to react to such a situation was to mimic slumber as long as possible, but it was too late for that now. And besides, there wasn't anyone else around, nor any sign of civilisation.

The cold seeped into his upper body, but it didn't feel like a sudden shock of cold. It was a chill that lingered in his bones, like it'd been there forever. His legs, though, were warmer, encased in the sleeping bag as they were. 

Shion examined the dark fabric of the sleeping bag, finding it to be of surprisingly high quality -- light and smooth, yet incredibly warm. The more he discovered about his situation, the less he knew about it.

Where was he? How did he get here? And above all, how would he get back to N0.7?

He shivered, and out of instinct, he pulled whatever was wrapped around his shoulders tighter around himself and dug his chin into it.

A strand of something dark fell into his face, so tried to brush it away, and when that didn't work, he pulled at it. His scalp prickled. It was...his hair?

With a detached sense of wonder, Shion tugged again, and confirmed that the strands were, indeed, attached to his scalp. He fought down the urge to scream. He'd known for a while that there was something wrong, but it was this change that hit him hardest.

Still feeling like he slogging through the entanglement of a particularly grotesque dream, he traced his fingers over his cheek, where his textured scar _should_ be, because there was none. Frantic now, he roughly palmed at his body, searching for any hint of familiarity.

And he found it, in the form of the cloth wrapped around his neck and shoulders. The texture was familiar -- he'd felt it many times when he was a teenager -- and there was a trace of the scent he'd so desperately tried to erase from his mind, for fear of it driving him insane. It couldn't be....but it was. The same smell of chemically-treated fabric, the same tinge of stale sweat -- which should have disgusted him, but it didn't --, the same unidentifiable scent of Nezumi.

Had the tempest with the ethereal grey eyes come to sweep him off again?

Excitedly, Shion stood up, only to collapse to his hands and knees as dizziness rushed through his body. He stood again, more slowly this time, and tried to take in his surroundings once more. There was the sleeping bag on the floor and a rather large black pack beside it, and then nothing else personal in the shallow cave. He stumbled to the opening of the cave and immediately planted a hand on the wall, because otherwise, he would have stepped into nothing; the cave was set several metres off the ground, overlooking an indistinct wasteland.

There was no Nezumi, and there was nothing even remotely familiar but for the cloth. Not even his own body.

It was a dream. It _had_ to be. Because how else could someone wake up at an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar body?

With robotic motions, Shion rolled up the sleeping bag, surprised with how much it could compress. Next, he unzipped the pack and dug through it. Sure, it was an invasion of someone's privacy, but Shion needed to get his bearings, figure out what he had to work with.

The pack was simple. It contained a spare set of clothing, a battered anti-radiation suit, a coil of rope, a sheathed ax, a terrifyingly familiar first-aid kit, a stockpile of water and nonperishable food, and two thin books: _Hamlet_ and what seemed to be a journal.

Shion's gloved fingers hovered over the journal, hesitating at the thought of flipping open the leather cover, parting its skin to reveal its insides, but then his natural curiosity overtook him. His intention was to skim the journal, looking for any sign of who its owner was, but the moment his eyes landed on the first page, he felt the world just...stop.

The handwriting was _achingly_ familiar; he'd seen it on the small strips of paper his mother had shown him and in the margins of classic tomes back in their cozy underground room. Even without reading the words, it was obvious that this was Nezumi's. And if the scarf was also Nezumi's...

Shion had gone through more than his share of fantastical events, but he still had a hard time believing that he was truly awake. With a leaden sense of foreboding lodged in his chest, he fumbled through the folds of fabric, then slipped a hand down his shirt, needing to confirm the suspicion he'd had since the strands of inky hair first fell into his face.

His fingers met the long-healed scar of the gunshot wound on his chest, and he felt like he'd been shot again. In a rush, he jerked his hand back, shoved it up the back of his shirt, and touched the massive keloid scar there, splattered upon his skin like backspatter.

The gunshot scar may not have been distinctive to Nezumi, but the series of burn scars on his back were instantly recognisable as his. That, combined with his long dark hair, the handwriting in the journal, the copy of _Hamlet_ with the worn pages, and those scar, Shion could only think of one thing.

Reunion had come.


	6. her personage, her tall personage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Size Differences
> 
>  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , act 3 scene 2

Nezumi is taller. He has not always been taller, and he and Shion both remember this. The first time they'd met, he'd been the slighter of the two, and the fact that he's been taller ever since only barely satisfies him. After all, first impressions mean _a lot_.

There are a lot of advantages to being taller, Nezumi thinks. He can walk up to Shion, stick his face into his feathery hair and easily ruffle those unbearably appealing locks. Nezumi still loves Shion's hair beyond measure -- it's soft and fluffy and the brilliant, stark white of it makes him glow. It's like a visual representation of how Shion naturally seems to stand out.

The fact that Nezumi is taller also means he can comfortably spoon Shion when they're cuddling. His body conforms naturally to Shion's, his chest pressed against Shion's back, his nose lightly tickled by Shion's hair. It's also a vaguely protective position, like he's shielding Shion from something. That something is usually nightmares; Shion still dreams that Nezumi is dead, but feeling his heartbeat against his back, his breathing against his beck, and his arms around his chest calms him down.

Shion tends to take advantage of Nezumi's height. It's one of the ways they tease each other, but it makes Nezumi feel validated. And also, occasionally, bothered, because why does Shion have to interrupt him and make him retrieve a jar from the highest shelf when he's immersed in a book? Or hold the umbrella when it's raining, or hang up decorations at the bakery, or any of the many other domestic tasks around their shared residence?

(Nezumi is not complaining, though. The domesticity reminds him that he and Shion are each other's home, and he doesn't need to try to cut himself off and try to survive alone again).

Shion: 

Shion is shorter. He'd grown since he'd left the West Block and began living in Lost Town again. Even though he still had the stress of rebuilding No.6 into No.7 on him, his growth spurt had still hit him, and he'd shot up by several centimetres, almost to as tall as he'd remembered Nezumi was.

He's teased incessantly about being shorter, but he doesn't mind. It makes it easier for Nezumi to hold him, and Shion likes being held, being protected. That's rare, these days; he feels like he has to be so big and strong all the time, what with reforming the city, helping those whose livelihoods were destroyed, and talking down politicians who are spiteful toward Shion for having wrenched their power away from them.

One of Shion's favourite advantages of being shorter is that when they sleep, Shion can tuck himself against Nezumi, press his face to his chest, and wrap his arms around him. He holds Nezumi tightly whenever they're like this, because he's never letting go of him again.

There's also something about putting his arms around Nezumi's neck when they dance that gets to him. Shion knows that Nezumi is very particular about things touching his neck, so -- and Shion may be reading a bit too much into this -- it feels special to do so, without the superfibre cloth in the way. The fact even such a simple gesture reveals that Nezumi trusts him so consummately with his life makes Shion feel like he's soaring.

Nezumi and Shion:

In the end, though, Nezumi is only taller by a single centimetre. But being dramatic has always been their forte.


	7. a most rare fashion, i' faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Crossdressing
> 
> They're just so pretty....
> 
> I was going to write smut, but then I realised that Nezumi would be beyond pissed if anything got on his dresses. Nezumi, you diva.
> 
> Title from _Much Ado About Nothing_ , act 3 scene 4

Nezumi crossdresses. 3 plus 7 is 10. Rain is wet.

These are all facts.

Here's another one: Shion does _not_ crossdress.

He'd look silly, he thinks -- he is not beautiful like Nezumi; he has neither the elegant and almost fey features, nor the svelte figure that could attractively pass as male or female or anywhere in between. he also does not have a full, malleable voice that can drop low and husky then soar high and sweet, all in a matter of moments.

Here's the fact, revised: Shion does not crossdress, unless Nezumi is _extremely_ persuasive.

Shion won't go into details of how he got to this point, but the fact remains that he is currently sitting, back ramrod-straight, atop the closed toilet, as Nezumi flits about him. He is in a crimson dress with a fluffy skirt and a stiff corset. The corset is laced tightly around his abdomen and holds up unsettlingly realistic false breasts. 

He does not know where Nezumi got them. He does not think he _wants_ to know where Nezumi got them.

While the corset is restrictive and a bit uncomfortable, the skirt is not. Its weight is settled on his thighs, airier than his usual sacks, and the ruffled layers of -- some type of fabric Shion can't remember -- are doing an amazing job at keeping the knee-length skirt ridiculously poofy.

He'd ask Nezumi what fabric it was, later. Right now, he couldn't think, because Nezumi was painting Shion's face and his deft fingers, graceful as ever, are driving Shion to distraction. The butterfly touches of the makeup brushes do not help either, nor does the fact that Nezumi's dress keeps slipping down his shoulder because he hadn't bothered to fasten it.

Nezumi had put on something that seemed to shimmer over his form. Unlike the structured corset and skirt he'd put on Shion, Nezumi's own dress flowed like he'd charmed the darkest hour of the night to swirl around him. His hair is down, his lips are a sinfully dark crimson, and the rim of shadow around his eyes makes their ethereal grey almost glow.

Shion is grateful for how the fluffy skirt conceals any changes in the topography underneath.

Wet fingers tangle into his hair and tug, jerking him out of his thoughts. Shion feels his hair go this way and that. Then the sensation stops, because the fingers are around his wrists instead, and Nezumi is pulling him up and spinning him around.

The figure Shion sees in the mirror is nothing like what he'd expected. His hair is still its usually fluffy white mop, but strands of it curl around his face in a way that lends it a soft and feminine air. His lips are painted red like Nezumi's although in a lighter shade hat matches his eyes and makes his scar stand out even more.

He's radiant.

But he still feels like he has nothing on the subtle beauty standing behind him, whose lips are beginning to quirk into a wolfish and entirely unladylike smirk.

"So you still like looking at yourself in the mirror, your majesty? Finding yourself as sexy as I find you?"

"I...Nezumi, you did a really good job with the makeup and the dress, I actually don't look as ridiculous as I thought I would", Shion said, stuttering over his words a bit. He was going to deny having checked himself out (it wasn't that weird, since the person in the mirror didn't even look like him), but decided that deflecting to complimenting Nezumi's makeup skills would be a better idea.

Nezumi laughs, though his teasing smirk doesn't fade. He knows Shion was looking into the mirror, although what he's not aware of is the fact that Shion was not looking at himself, but at Nezumi.

"Told you I wouldn't let you look like a fool. Not that I'd need to, you already do enough of that yourself."

"Hey!"

"Don't worry, it's endearing", Nezumi conceded. And then, like the mercurial storm his eyes so reminded Shion of, his mood completely changes. " Let's dance!" he exclaims, tugging in Shion's hand.

Shion stumbles, of course. 

"Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten how to, already?"

"No, just, Nezumi, calm down!" Shion says, then frees himself from Nezumi's grip to dash over to his laptop. He flips it open, then pulls up the track he'd saved: Chopin's Nocturne in E flat major. He takes a deep breath, feeling the dispersed pressure of the corset over his chest again, then hits play.

The music flows through the room, giving it a stately air, and Shion steps back over to Nezumi, who's looking at him with a fond smile.

The act of dancing is nostalgic for both of them. They both remember the first time they danced together. They both remember when, back in the underground room, their waltz was their solace from the brutal life of the West Block. They both remember how close they'd gotten to each other, how they'd held each other so gently in their arms and spun and stepped across the room as if there was nothing to stop them but themselves.

Dancing is a full body exercise that is more intimate than even fighting or sex, Shion thinks. People fight all the time with people they barely know and people have sex with casual acquaintances, but there's no way to dance the way he does with Nezumi unless there's full trust between them.

He's thankful that Nezumi hadn't put him in heels or flats or whatever decorative shoes, they had his theater as Shion steps up and takes Nezumi's hand. 

"Shall we?" he asks.

And Nezumi nods, a gentle smile still spread over his face. He slips his hand out of Shion's grip and rests it on his lower back as Shion drapes his arms over Nezumi's shoulders. Together, they dance away the night, and if their bodies naturally gravitated closer together, well, a waltz _did_ have a steady beat to move to.


	8. let your own discretion be your tutor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Roleplay
> 
> In which Shion is extremely smart, but misses the point entirely.
> 
> Nezumi decides never to try to reenact a porno script ironically again.
> 
> (The beginning is supposed to be a text message conversation, and this is set in a modern, college AU)
> 
> Title from _Hamlet_ , act 3 scene 2

let your own discretion be your tutor. Hamlet, act 3 scene 2

_Are you ready for tonight? Have you been looking at the script and all?_

_**of course! i made a few changes, though.** _

_What did you do._

**_just changed a few lines, no big deal._**

__  
_Your majesty, the script does not bow to your whims._

**_i know. but you change your scripts all the time._**

_That pisses the director off, but even then, I'm only changing the blocking._  
 _Sure, you can cut parts of the script, but you should never be outright changing it._

**_it's just too unrealistic, nezumi._**

_First off, stop typing. I can see those dots moving._

**_:/_**

_Shion, no. Anyways, you know what? Just suit the action to the word, the word to the action, and we'll be fine._

**_that's from hamlet! alright, i got it. see you tonight! <3_**

_You're correct. See you then, my love._

____

Nezumi hesitated before adding the last two words. He wasn't one for open displays of affection, but…it's not like anyone else would be reading Shion's texts. He could imagine the airhead grinning widely enough to blind everyone in his path with his glow, so it was worth it.

He knew Shion had one more class before he was free, so he let himself relax, grabbed a book: Thoreau's _Walden_ , and let himself sink into the words of the transcendentalist. Apart from the man's occasionally pretentious and unrealistic ideals, Thoreau made some pretty damn good points.

An hour and a half later, Nezumi's alarm went off. About now, Shion would be heading out of class and back home to grab his costume and change, so Nezumi should start doing the same.

He let his hair out of its twisted ponytail and dampened it, figuring that doing so would straighten out its unruly kinks and waves. Then he slipped out of his T-shirt, boxers, and sweats, and into a skimpy negligee.

It flowed over his body and down to his upper thighs effortlessly, the shimmery cornflower blue fabric opaque over his chest. He sashayed to the closet, letting the fabric swish around satisfyingly. Sure, he looked a bit silly, but there was no one else around, so who was he to care?

From the closet, he pulled out a dark blue cape, its rich colour apparent despite its gossamer fabric. He draped it over his shoulders, letting it cover everything. And now, to wait.

Nezumi didn't have to wait long. Shion showed up promptly at seven o'clock, looking just a bit rumpled (and very much adorable) from his bike ride. He carried a toolbox that clanked every time he moved, was clad in baggy, messy clothing, and had shoved his fluffy hair into an orange baseball cap. Shion looked horrendous, and Nezumi thought it was amazing.

Out of habit, Nezumi went in for a welcome-back kiss, only to be rebuffed with a confused look.

"I'm here…to fix…your shower?"

 _Oh_. And with that awkward moment, Nezumi fell into character.

"Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry about that," he ad-libbed, voice pitched high and airy, then went back to the script. "I'm afraid I've been having some…general problems with my shower recently, and like I said, I don't quite know how to describe them."

He tapped his lips with a delicately poised index finger, as if thinking hard, and was satisfied when Shion's eyes were drawn toward the motion.

"Perhaps you could come take a _look_?" Nezumi asked, stepping aside to allow Shion into the apartment, and to spare the neighbours from accidentally seeing or hearing any more of this mess.

Shion stepped in, closed and locked the door behind him, then leaned against the wall. "Alright! So today, I'll do a quick check over the shower, and, if possible, implement a few quick fixes. Then I'll ask you to try it out and tell me if it works fine, um…?"

"You can just call me Eve, darling."

Nezumi leaned in, and for a moment,the leer on his face was all Nezumi and no Eve. Shion's lips parted involuntarily, ready for a kiss, then his expression hardened and he made a beeline to the bathroom.

Nezumi was pleasantly surprised at how well Shion was holding up. His awkward fumbling was actually fairly in character for the poor handyman who had stumbled into the lair of the coy vixen.

It wouldn't be long; after all, Nezumi's shower wasn't really broken. He'd just written _"[Some general banging around will suffice. Don't break anything that's not already broken.]"_ in the stage directions as well.

So the fact that Shion had been in there for over an hour was highly suspect. Unable to wait much longer, Nezumi went into the bathroom to investigate. He gathered his cloak around him, then walked to the bathroom, nudging open the door to be met with Shion crouched in the shower and surrounded by…stuff.

Shion's toolbox was open, he had several screwdrivers and wrenches shoved into his belt, and there was a plastic bag filled with something dark and slimy-looking behind him.

"What the fuck?"

"Nezumi, I'm almost done, I just need a few more minutes," Shion stage-whispered, so Nezumi left, confounded. He gave Shion the requested minutes and hoped like hell Shion wasn't going mad scientist in his shower.

When he reentered the bathroom, though, everything was clean, Shion's tools were packed back away, and the bag of Cthulhu's entrails was gone once more. 

"You done?"

"Yeah! You can try it out now, then tell me if anything else needs to be fixed," Shion said with a wide, expectant grin, so, catching Shion's gaze, Nezumi let the cloak slip off.

Shion's eyes widened, and Nezumi caught the way Shion visually traced up his legs, the way Shion scanned his negligee and exposed skin with a desire that couldn't be hidden. _Score._

He looked off to the side, as if a bit abashed, then shimmied out of the negligee, bent over to turn the water on, and stepped into the shower. 

Not even Shion's crowded tool belt could conceal the way his pants tented.

In the shower, Nezumi pumped soap into his hands and ran them enticingly down his body, washing himself in a way that was wholly impractical yet appeared extremely sensual. He was by no means an exhibitionist, but Shion's lustful stare and his own touches were starting to get arousal thrumming through his body.

Nezumi was so concentrated on making sure the curve of his back was right in Shion's line of sight, his hair trailed down just right, and his movements were completely slinky and graceful, that it took him too long to realise that the seam where his showerhead connected to the hose wasn't leaking, and that the drain wasn't making weird sounds as water flowed through it.

He froze with one hand tangled in his hair and the other resting on his chest. Shion had definitely done _something_. Efficiently, Nezumi rinsed off, snagged a towel off the rack, and wrapped it around his hips, letting rivulets of water continue streaming down his back and chest.

"It works fabulously! What did you do to it?" Nezumi asked, sticking to the line. It seemed appropriate.

"I didn't really do that much, just cleared your drain and fixed your showerhead. Since you have a lot of long, really pretty hair, I assumed you might've gotten some of it your drain, so I brought a drain snake just in case!" Shion declared, sounding way too proud of his foresight. Nezumi supposed that that was what the dark, slimy stuff in the bag had been.

"And last time I was over, I figured out what size your O ring was, so I-"

"My what?"

"O ring! It's basically a rubber washer that goes into your showerhead where all the groves are. It seals the area and prevents leakage. Anyways, yours was kind of old and degraded, so I replaced it. There doesn't seem to be anything else wrong with your shower, although I didn't check the faucet because I didn't have time to study its structure and function online."

"So how much do I owe you." Nezumi said flatly, in his normal voice.

It was, again, the scripted line that Nezumi delivered, so Shion ignored his lack of inflection and accordingly responded, "A kiss!"

Nezumi groaned. "No, seriously. I know the script was that I'd kiss you and then let you fuck me, but we already do that all the time, for free, and those tools and the washer clearly weren't," he said, all in a rush.

"It's fine! We had all the tools because I help out at home, and I got the washer at a discount anyways, because my mom and I are friends with the owner of the tool shop. Calm down!'

"Shion, this is insane. You looked up how to fix a shower, then went out and bought those parts, so at least let me compensate you." Even though he trusted Shion completely, he still didn't like being indebted to anyone. Maybe he'd just snag the check the next few times they went out for dinner, or something like that.

"…fine. But can I still get the kiss?" Shion asked, as if being kissed was his entire motive for doing this. He really was too precious for his own good, and, if he was being honest, Nezumi would have admitted that he was actually rather impressed by how much effort (too much) Shion had put into the roleplay.

"Of course, my prince", Nezumi whispered, then captured Shion's lips in a sweet kiss. His love was really too smart of an airhead.


	9. remember who commended thy [red] stockings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Lingerie 
> 
> Hnhhh I couldn't think of any Shakespeare quotes that mentioned underwear in a positive way (it's all foul linen to him!), so I had to google and misquote.
> 
> This chapter is also known as "Slow The Fuck Down, Nezumi".
> 
> Title from _Twelfth Night_ , act 3 scene 4

Nezumi could have walked home to any number of things: the squeaking of rats, a book in his path to send him sprawling, Shion with a bowl of piping hot and not-too-salty soup. And while he would have liked some of them more than others, they were all perfectly fine; they were familiar and reminded him of Shion, of _home_.

When he came home, the rats were strangely absent, the books on the floor were relatively neat, and the light was dark Weird. Shion hadn't mentioned that he'd be kept late at work today, so Nezumi's senses immediately went into overdrive. He walked cautiously, alert for anything off.

It took him more time than he'd like to admit for him to realise that the gap between the books formed a meandering path through the shelves and to the bed. No thief or troublemaker would break in and make such a subtle change. A smile spread across his face involuntarily; the fact that Shion had arranged a path for him to follow was incredibly endearing.

He kicked his boots off and tossed his jacket and shawl onto the empty part of the shelf closest to the door, then followed the path, where Shion was reclined on the bed, in nothing but an unbuttoned white dress shirt He was asleep.

Nezumi approached quietly, with the intent of rearranging Shion so he wouldn't be in such an uncomfortable position, but the moment he touched Shion's shoulder, he blinked awake and sat up.

"Welcome home, Nezumi!" he exclaimed, as cheery as always.

Nezumi didn't respond. He was distracted by what lay under Shion's shirt, which had fallen open when he sat up. Lace. Red lace.

Shion's face fell when Nezumi didn't respond with his customary hello kiss, but the smile came back when he noticed where Nezumi's eyes were directed. He'd dressed up like this to surprise him, after all.

"Shion, where. Where did you even get this? I mean, it makes you look extremely alluring, even moreso than usual, but..."

"Gag gift from someone at work! I thought you'd like it, though, so I kept it."

There was _something_ about red lines over Shion's pale skin that drove Nezumi to absolute distraction. Before he could even deliberate his actions, he was tracing the edges of the lacy bandeau across Shion's chest, running his fingers along the border between skin and fabric.

"It's, I..." Nezumi wanted to say something along the lines of how he loved it, and it emphasised both the redness of Shion's eyes and scar and the stark paleness of his skin and hair, something about how it made him even more captivating than usual, made him look like the snake, the snake that charmed Eve. He would have said all that, delivered the words in a husky voice into Shion's ear and flustered his love, but for one issue: his eloquence had deserted him.

His tongue felt heavy and his mouth too dry to speak, so he gave up on trying to speak and kissed Shion instead. He planted his knee on the bed between Shion's legs, braced a hand on Shion's shoulder, and pushed him back onto the bed to settle his weight over him.

He sucked on Shion's lower lip and nipped it, and when Shion's lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside. It didn't feel like enough; he wanted more. Nezumi wanting Shion was a typical state of being, but the lingerie pushed his desire into something excruciatingly urgent, like he needed infinitely more of Shion. Shion met his tongue with his own, and Nezumi lost himself to the warm, wet slide of their mouths.

As if trying to anchor himself, he tangled a hand into Shion’s hair, making Shion break the kiss to moan. And then Nezumi was about to take the chance to kiss along Shion’s neck, where his beautiful scar round around it, but Shion was yanking him by the hair into another kiss before he could blink.

Their lips met forcefully, and he kissed him even more deeply. Small, sharp nips were quickly smoothed over with a caress of tongue, of lips, and at some point during the endless-seeming kiss, Nezumi felt a tight sensation in his chest. Love _hurt_.

Shion wrenched his head back, gasping for hair. As they parted, air whooshed back into Nezumi's lungs and he realised that the tight sensation hadn't been love, but rather merely a need for air. Shion had made him disgustingly sentimental; Nezumi blamed his lack of logic on the fact that most of his blood was deserting his brain.

"You, ah, you _really_ like it, don't you?" Shion asked, for once more articulate than Nezumi, who took a few deep, shuddery breaths to steady himself. With slightly shaky hands, he slid the button-down shirt off Shion, then smeared his palms down his chest, trying to just _feel_ him, feel how warm and solid and alive and _Shion_ was.

Nezumi skimmed his hands under the bandeau to ruck it up around Shion’s armpits, then ducked his head to his chest to kiss his path down his scar. He stopped at where the scar ran over one of Shion’s nipples and sucked, drawing a loud cry from Shion as his hips bucked up.

He sat back, reached a hand down to palm over Shion’s lace-covered arousal, and watched as the man underneath him writhed into his touch. The soft lace under Nezumi’s palm was stretched taut over the prominent erection underneath, and Nezumi could feel Shion’s heat through the fabric. With how tented the fabric was, Nezumi thought it looked like it might be edging into uncomfortable for Shion, so, although he would have loved to enjoy the view much longer, he pulled the panties down and grasped him firmly.

Shion cried out as he thrust into Nezumi’s grip, and Nezumi briefly lost track of what he was doing, stroking Shion while trying to commit his image to memory: his white hair splayed on the pillow, face and chest flushed, that fucking sexy snake curled along his body, and the bead of moisture at the tip of his cock. _Fuck_ , he wanted to taste that, to lick that off and watch as Shion would shudder at the sudden silken warmth around the tip of him.

Nezumi was just about to slide his way down Shion’s body and maybe surreptitiously grind down on something, when Shion grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled himself up to meet Nezumi halfway in a kiss. Stunned at Shion’s sudden boldness and terribly unbalanced, Nezumi toppled forward, arms framing either side of Shion’s head to prevent his full weight from falling onto him.

Quickly, Shion snaked one hand around the nape of Nezumi’s neck and the other around his lower back to hold him, then rolled his hips. Nezumi groaned at the friction and mirrored Shion’s action. He tried to keep the kiss going, but he’d lost the coordination to do so, and it was hard to keep kissing anyways when gasps kept slipping from his lips so often.

Nezumi clenched his eyes shut against the overwhelming waves of pleasure, but even with his eyes closed, he could still see the disheveled, debauched mental image of Shion underneath him, and his hips twitched out of rhythm at the shock of heat that suddenly burned through his body. He heard himself saying Shion’s name in a sort of wrecked, desperate voice, and then Shion was arching up hard against him.

Something wet slicked his belly where his shirt had ridden up, and Nezumi barely recognised that _oh, that’s Shion_ before he too was coming. They clung to each other as they rode out their orgasms, and Nezumi barely had the presence of mind to lean hard to the right so he wouldn’t collapse on top of Shion.

Next to each other, still halfway in an embrace, they tried to even out their breathing.

“Didn’t know it only took a few pieces of lacy fabric to make you lose control, Nezumi. Is lingerie a particular fetish of yours? How come I’ve never noticed this before? You certainly can’t be getting aroused on stage from playing Eve, so-“

Nezumi cut him off with a quick kiss on the lips, because Shion's pillow talk was the worst. “Of course not, do you really think I’m that easy, your majesty? It’s just, around you, my self-control stands upon the edge of a knife, stray but a little and I'm ruined.”

“Tolkien? Anyways, I really liked when you lost control and kissed me like that, earlier. It was like the storm in your eyes physically manifested and blew over me. We’ll have to keep this set; think you’ll fit in it? I think the red would work really well with your eyes, but really, anything does.”

“Not after you’ve stained them like that!”


	10. death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Gunplay
> 
> Or, as I interpreted it, "Gun, play", with play as in an onstage production. None of today's prompts seemed really fitting for kinky nezushi, so I, uh, made it angst.  
> tw: panic attack, guns
> 
> Title from _Romeo and Juliet_ , act 5 scene 3

Even in peasant clothes and roughed up with grime, Nezumi was beautiful. He usually was, but somehow, he shined even more brightly whenever he was on stage. Even though it was merely a dress rehearsal, the theatre had gone all out, with costumes, props, and special effects fully in use.

Shion was ecstatic. Nezumi had never invited him to a dress rehearsal before, preferring to have Shion watch the final, best performance. He was, after all, the committee member who had initiated the plans to build the theater. Shion had been wanting to see the progression of the production, so Nezumi had finally relented, and now here Shion was, sitting in the best seat in the theatre and watching the production of Les Miserables with rapt attention.

He'd been captivated since the play started, and his interest had only increased when Nezumi, or rather, Eve, came on stage. Shion hadn't expected to see Nezumi as Éponine, since it wasn't the type of role he usually played, but Nezumi was still stunning. He seemed to be able to flawlessly adapt into whatever role he was given, and Shion loved it; Nezumi was almost unbearably attractive when he got into a role.

A bit weird of Shion to think so, perhaps, since Nezumi was rather convincingly playing a young girl, but regardless of what Nezumi did, Shion was drawn to him.

The scene shifted, this time, showing two teenage girls of an impoverished family begging for alms. There was Nezumi again, his natural beauty hidden beneath grimy skin and hair, his clear voice muddied by a horrendous rasp. Shion tracked Nezumi through his performance, focusing on his movements, his voice, the way he nearly _was_ the young woman who was barely keeping herself alive.

A chase. A search. An interlude. 

And then the stage filled with revolutionary fervour.

Shion recognised it instantly -- he himself had experienced destroying and reforming something, so he understood the men who were plotting to draw attention to those in the slums by holding a barricade. It was a farfetched plan, one unlikely to succeed, but so was Shion's and Nezumi's, and look where that'd gotten them. So it was with hope that Shion watched the barricade scene, and that hope was only further fueled by the spirited singing and sense of community.

He nearly missed it when Éponine came on stage again, partially due to her disguise, but mostly because he was enraptured by the way the revolutionaries were fending off the soldiers; they were so resourceful. 

But he definitively saw when Éponine extended her hand in front of a gun and a shot rang out and Nezumi fell backwards with a pained cry, hands clutched against his chest, blood starting to seep through the fabric.

Something in Shion snapped. He vaguely heard someone scream Nezumi's name, but he was already sprinting through the auditorium and onto the stage to gather Nezumi into his arms, fingers fumbling through the fabric of his vest to find the wound and stem it.

A quick scan showed no gunman. Already gone, then. A stray shot? Probably. The priority now was Nezumi.

"Shion, Shion, let go, you need to calm down," said a voice in what was probably meant to be a comforting murmur, but to Shion just sounded defeated. 

"I'm _not_ leaving you, Nezumi. I swore we'd survive together," Shion replied breathlessly, finally succeeding in removing the fabric. If Nezumi had been shot through the hand, the bullet, at that range, would have burned the palm of his hand -- nonfatal, something to treat later, but more urgently, the angle would mean &the bullet should be embedded in the side of his chest, or would it have gone through? There was no expanding pool of blood beneath Nezumi, Shion observed, so it was probably still inside. Good.

"Hey. Shion. Where are we?"

No. No, no, _no_! How was Nezumi already losing awareness so quickly? 

"Correctional Facility. We're in the infirmary, and I'm going to get us both out, so stay with me, Nezumi."

Shion's voice was flat and commanding. He needed to be in full control of himself he he was going to be able to get out.

"Alright. Can you tell me what you see around us?"

"Is your eyesight beginning to blur or darken around the edges? Don't close your eyes! Fight it. I need you, Nezumi, you need to-"

"I'm fine, Shion. Just let me hear your voice. Describe. Give me something to focus on."

Shion paused in his attempt at ripping the hem of his own shirt into strips of fabric for bandages. What sort of infirmary was this? Had it been cleared out already; had the bandages been used to wrap noses and mouths as a barrier against the foul stench that permeated the facility?

"I have you laid out on the floor of the infirmary, which has a&black floor with many&.neon markings on it." Shion narrated, "There's wooden structures and thick fabric hanging behind you, and-"

"What's on your hands?"

With the same distant and analytical eyes, Shion checked his hands.

"Your..."

There was no blood. 

Nothing felt real. He clenched his eyes shut.

"You're on stage, Shion, not the Correctional Facility. You're safe, we're both safe. I wasn't shot..." Nezumi's reassurances washed over Shion, the soothing, familiar voice far too strong and steady for a man who'd just been shot.

When Shion opened his eyes again, he quickly tried to take in his surroundings again, letting concrete details counter the panic that was slowly ebbing. People (Nezumi's castmates, Shion's mind supplied) surrounded him, but nobody had a gun. The walls weren't a clinical white, marred by bullet-holes. Nezumi was not half unconscious and covered in blood.

Shion smoothed his hand over Nezumi's chest, then ran it down his arm to grasp his completely unharmed palm. He twined their fingers together, Nezumi's warmth bleeding into his frigid hands, and then the fear and relief and the _everything_ hit him all at once and he burst into tears, reaching out to fully embrace Nezumi, whose words cut off with a gasp at the force of Shion's arms around him.

He pressed his face to Nezumi's chest and grounded himself with the quick but steady beating of his heart, so undeniably alive. The wetness on his face was not Nezumi's blood but merely his own tears, nothing else. 

Nezumi's chest rumbled as he said something, but Shion was too out of it to notice much besides Nezumi excusing himself from the rest of the rehearsal, and then he was being pulled up to a standing position and led somewhere else.

A door shut, then Shion was pushed down to a soft surface, Nezumi's solid warmth still beside him. For a long while, everything was still.

"Shion."

Shion made a vague sound of assent, then looked up to where worried grey eyes were peering down at him. He pulled away from Nezumi to instead lean back against the couch in Eve's dressing room.

"Sorry. About freaking out like-"

"No, no, fuck, it's not your fault. I get it. I should have warned you I'd get sh- I'd have to act out getting shot during the performance, are you alright?"

He'd been expecting harshness from Nezumi, perhaps an accusation for interrupting the dress rehearsal with his untimely meltdown, so his concern was unexpected. He squeezed Nezumi's hand more tightly, fighting tears again.

"You're not hurt, I'm alright, but...can we just stay like this for a bit? I know it's illogical, but I-" _'-need you here so I can reassure myself you're still here and alive', '-'m terrified you're going to be ripped away from me somehow, '-just can't stand to lose you again.'_. Shion didn't finish his sentence, but Nezumi seemed to read into his words.

"Of course. Whatever you need, your majesty," Nezumi said, then, a moment later, "It's a good thing you didn't see this for the first time at one of the real performances; there'd be a blood bag involved. Lots of them, actually."

"Hm?"

"Fake blood, Kensington Gore, whatever you want to call it. It's just not used at the final dress rehearsal because nobody wants to have to clean all that up right before opening night. You know what it's made of?"

Shion shook his head, making Nezumi chuckle softly.

"You can make it in the bakery; there's a lot of recipes, but one of the more common ones involves corn syrup, dish soap...."

And, as strange it was, the familiarity of hearing Nezumi ramble on about stage-play, even if was him detail the steps of making fake blood, lulled Shion back into calmness.


	11. stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Gags
> 
> Except not really, because one can stop someone from speaking with a kiss too.
> 
> Set post reunion, they've been together for a few years now.
> 
> Title from _Much Ado About Nothing_ , act 2 scene 1

Sometimes, Shion just wouldn't. Stop. Talking. Sure, it was endearing to Nezumi (somehow), but occasionally it got annoying, like now.

Now, as in, past midnight, after a long day. They'd both had a day off, and for old time's sake, Shion had decided to go back and wash some dogs for Inukashi. And of course, being Shion, he'd dragged Nezumi with him, since the bibliophile was doing nothing except lazing about with a book in hand.

Washing the dogs had been a chore, and so had sniping back and forth with Inukashi, and now Nezumi just wanted to fall into the sweet embrace of sleep.

"How did you rinse so many dogs so quickly, even when they were growling at you?"

"Intimidation."

"Really? I didn't think you were that scary, Nezumi. You just sort of, waved the hose around at the dogs."

Nezumi wanted to say something along the lines of 'yeah, of course _you'd_ think so', but he didn't really want to engage in conversation.

"And you just sort of soap yourself up and play with the dogs, and somehow transfer the suds from yourself to their fur"

"Hey! I actually have experience with dog washing, and the way I do it works perfectly well. You should try being nice to them sometime."

"Yeah, no. I'm pretty damn sure Inukashi trained their dogs to be hostile to me."

"What, no, Inukashi wouldn't do that! The dogs are really friendly if you're not constantly glaring at them."

"Can we not talk about Inukashi and sleep instead? It's past midnight, airhead."

"You were the one who started talking about them; _I_ was asking you how you're so good at rinsing the dogs even though y-" Shion tried to retort, a satisfied grin on his face like he knew he'd won.

Nezumi didn't respond, instead just resting his palm on Shion's cheek for a moment before scooting in and nudging their lips together to cut him off. Shion would have to be an idiot to try to talk while being kissed.

Apparently, Shion _was_ such an idiot. His lips parted, not to kiss Nezumi back, but to _keep fucking talking_. Barely a sound had escaped his mouth before Nezumi straight up poked his tongue into Shion's mouth. It may have been possible for Shion to talk with lips on his, but it was definitely more difficult to talk around a tongue.

He licked across Shion's lips, tasting the sharp chemical flavour of his toothpaste and literally prodding him to respond. It took a while, but finally, he did, meeting Nezumi's tongue with his own and angling his head.

Nezumi swirled his tongue around Shion's, overwhelming him with the heated slide of their lips. Heat spread through his body, radiating outward from the liplock, and Nezumi felt like he was melting into Shion, whose breaths were coming in gasps every time their lips parted slightly.

In what he hoped was a casual and not desperate movement, Nezumi broke the kiss to situate himself atop Shion, one thigh wedged between Shion's legs. He braced his weight on the bed with an elbow, then tilted Shion's chin up with the other hand to reconnect their lips.

This way, the angle was better; Nezumi could fully take control of how he kissed Shion, how he could press harder to make Shion groan, how he could pull back with a nip to Shion's lips to make him gasp. He could feel Shion's hips twitch against his leg in abrupt thrusts as he hardened, he could feel Shion's rapid heartbeat against his chest, and it all made Nezumi rather smug at how, even after all these years, he could get Shion this worked up with just a few kisses.

Shion let out a whine and tugged at the hair at the base of Nezumi's neck to pull him even closer, but instead of complying, Nezumi pulled away. At Shion's aroused, dazed look, Nezumi smirked. "Stopped talking, hm? Finally. Goodnight, your majesty."

And then, abruptly, he rolled over to face the wall and shut his eyes.

"What? Nezumi, I can't sleep like this!"

"Figure it out yourself; you're resourceful," Nezumi replied, feeling satisfied that Shion now knew what it felt like to be unable to fall asleep. He listened to Shion shift on the bed for a few minutes as he pretended to have fallen asleep, although he couldn't stop the hitch in his breath when, with a disgruntled huff, Shion rolled out of bed. 

And when Shion clicked the bathroom door shut with a bit more force than strictly necessary, Nezumi couldn't help but curl into himself as he shook with barely-suppressed laughter. No, revenge wasn't a dish best served cold, it was a dish best served irresistibly hot.


	12. how deeply you at once do touch me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Hand Jobs
> 
> Sorry it's a day late! I got lost in the prose and fell asleep while writing this, haha.
> 
> Edit: Fixed numerous typos. I'm cringing, omg.
> 
> Title from _Cymbeline_ , act 3 scene 4

Nezumi's movements are always graceful. Even when they'd been teenagers, Shion had noticed -- and been distracted by -- Nezumi's fluid motions. 

Whether he'd been jumping from ledges, cloak flaring behind him, or slipping through an assailant's grip, Nezumi had a sort of ratlike grace. Watching Nezumi fight had been mesmerising, terrifying, and strangely arousing. Shion blamed the last part on adrenaline and the central role Nezumi had played in his sexual awakening. 

There was something beautifully dangerous about the way Nezumi almost seemed to prowl the streets, and something beguiling about his elegant gestures on stage. Those delicate flicks of his wrists, the pale stretch of his arms as he dramatically made sweeping gestures-- they all seemed to have a sort of deadly power underneath their beauty, as if it would have been equally fitting had Nezumi held a dagger rather than a flower.

When it was just Shion, Nezumi, and a troupe of rats in their underground room, Shion's gaze was often drawn to the way Nezumi's muscles bunched and relaxed as he pulled his shirt over his head, as he reached for a book on a high shelf, or as he toweled off after a shower. 

Beneath his bulky leather jacket and cloak, and despite his slender figure, Nezumi was attractively muscled -- almost sculpted, Shion thought, like the fair youths in the literature Nezumi had so much of. Shion had spent many nights mentally reciting long passages from a book to distract himself from the other boy slumbering on beside him.

Despite recalling Macbeth's visions of a bloodied dagger, Hamlet's suicidal deliberations, or Aaron's boasts about his dastardly deeds, Shion would couldn't quite get the image of Nezumi's pale fingers flicking his dark hair into a ponytail out of his mind.

Something about Nezumi's hands was endlessly captivating to Shion. Perhaps it was how powerful they were, how capable of destruction, yet how careful and precise they could be. Perhaps it was just the way Nezumi, with his flair for the dramatic, would point things out with a flourish, highlighting the agility of his fingers.

That was then, when they were young, and when Shion had admired Nezumi with a modicum of detachment, like Nezumi's touch would be something he'd never get enough of.

Years later, after Nezumi had returned from travelling distant lands, Shion's fascination with him hadn't faded, but rather, strengthened with time. And so had Shion's fascination with his hands.

Now though, those same fingers aren't just gesticulating at objects, but rather, they're hooking under Shion's chin to pull him forward for a kiss and slipping into his hair to angle his head so their lips slide together perfectly. They're sliding down Shion's chest, slipping the buttons out of their buttonholes as adeptly as he'd slipped Shion out of No.6 that first time, so long ago.

In comparison, Shion's fingers seem horrendously clumsy against Nezumi's zipper, but the soft smile on his face and the way he tilts his hips toward the contact makes it obvious he doesn't mind. 

Shion's not usually like this, it's just that even after years of being with Nezumi, he still occasionally gets overwhelmed. Nezumi says it's because his airheadedness manifests at odd times; Shion says it's because Nezumi is too pretty and amazing and downright beautiful, and that's usually when Nezumi shuts him up with a kiss and a comment that he's been developing his vocabulary for the wrong reasons.

He'd defend himself, but there's not a shred of coherency left in his mind as Nezumi traces along the red scar winding around his body, narrowly missing his cock and making Shion gasp. Sometimes, Nezumi would get into a particular mood and tease Shion for ages unless Shion does something about it, so Shion palms Nezumi's cock and strokes it, grinning as Nezumi's hips buck and he loses his balance, grasping at Shion's shoulders as he lists forward. 

Shion had been sitting on the bed with Nezumi leaning over him, but the next thing he knows, he has him sprawled atop him. Nezumi sits up with a disgruntled expression as well as a heavy blush on his cheeks, so Shion grabs his hand to kiss his fingertips, then leans up to kiss his lips. He deepens the kiss quickly, letting it be apparent how much he _wants_ Nezumi. 

He pulls him back down to straddle him, then cries out loudly as Nezumi plants a hand on the bed and the other over Shion's cock, stroking him roughly. Shion can't help but look, because the sight of Nezumi's pale fingers curled around the desperate flushed red of his erection is oddly delectable.

Suddenly seized by the urge to feel more of Nezumi, Shion grabs his hips and tugs him down so that their hips and chests touch. The warmth of it makes him dizzy, although it could also be how intoxicated he is by Nezumi's presence, the way his hot breaths feather across his jaw.

In a motion that Shion feels more than sees, Nezumi takes both of them in hand and pulls up, and they both groan. Their open mouths collide in a messy kiss, and Shion grabs Nezumi's hand around their cocks, helping stroke them both together.

Shion swipes his thumb across the tip of Nezumi's erection making him shudder, then he loses himself to the mindless friction when Nezumi squeezes tighter and speeds up. His other hand slides down Nezumi's back, over the powerful muscles coiled there, then down over the curve of his ass, making Nezumi bite out his name through gritted teeth.

Nezumi's movements are always graceful, and that's what makes it so special to Shion when he loses control -- when his hands twitch out of their controlled movements and his hips jerk and his back arches involuntarily out of pleasure, when his entire body trembles as he collapses on Shion.

Shion loves Nezumi's elegance, but he also loves how uncontrolled Nezumi can be around him.


	13. how does your patient, doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how I wish Shakespeare had said "how do you do your patient, doctor", because that would have been infinitely funnier. As it stands, take the pseudo-pun for what it is.
> 
> Ummmm, they're both tipsy and make dick jokes. That is all
> 
> title from _Macbeth_ , act 5 scene 3

"Medical roleplay? As in, skimpy lab coats and overly sexual questions that vaguely pertain your physical condition?"

"Yeah! As a doctor, I can take care of any problems that might _arise_ when you see me!"

"Ha, shit, Shion, you really _are_ drunk, aren't you? You're looking overly excited to jab me with something, and once was enough. More than enough."

"But Nezumi, I'm not looking to jab you with a needle this time…"

"...Did you just wink at me. No. We're done here, your majesty, go to sleep."

"Aww, but-"

"We are not considering this. Besides, given that you seem to be wanting to reenact when we first met, you'd probably shoot off before injecting me- what am I even saying, fuck, that brew was stronger than expected."

"Hey!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they never considered this kink ever again.


	14. a hair more or a hair less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Role reversal
> 
> I...interpreted this prompt really loosely, haha
> 
> Title from _Romeo and Juliet_ , act 3 scene 1

Of the two of them, Nezumi had always been the one with the point hair and, according to Shion unfairly attractive ponytail. In the same breath, though, Shion had also said that the same ponytail was spiky, ridiculous, and altogether defiant of the laws of physics, so Nezumi wasn't sure if he should have taken it as a compliment or not.

It didn't matter that much to him. He knew the hairstyle looked good on him, and that was that.

But now, in the interest of practicality, he'd cut his hair. He'd been cast in a male role in a modern play (for once), and there was no way he'd be able to conceal his shoulder-length hair under a short wig. His locks now hung barely below his ears, and, well, it was a good thing he was just as alluring when masculine as he was when feminine, yeah?

In a strange reversal, _Shion_ was now the one with the short ponytail. It was tied low, at his nape, but it was so damn fluffy that Nezumi couldn't even begrudge him for the attempt to tame that beautiful mop.

While normally, Nezumi would have wanted to run his hands over the top of Shion's head and ruffle his amazingly soft and feather hair, the fact that he could now simply reach out and flick Shion's ponytail was a boon as well. It was just so appealing, that puff of alabaster hair.

And don't even get Nezumi started on the way Shion's fringe framed his face and emphasised his eyes and scar. The slightly wavy hair softened his features and contrasted so splendidly with his slightly chiseled jaw that Nezumi suddenly wanted to hook his fingers under it and draw Shion into a kiss.

So he did. And if his other hand snuck behind Shion's head to tangle with that unfairly attractive ponytail, it was perfectly justified.


	15. thou hast hit it. come, sit on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Lapdances
> 
> I read way too many sonnets looking for one that's sensual enough...
> 
> Set post-reunion. Nezumi does a lot of acting gigs. There's a couple of minor OCs here with random names; they're just Shion's coworkers.
> 
> Title from _The Taming of the Shrew_ , act 2 scene 1  
> (this play has some of the best wordplay I've ever seen)

The worst part of his job, Shion thought, was the fine line between being professional and being a stick-in-the-mud. It was indistinct, and covered in a strange blend of alcohol, smoke, and... somewhere. Shion wasn't sure where that somewhere was, but it was typically a venue that straddled the line between theatre and strip club.

He and his coworkers were a close-knit group, having spearheaded the efforts of rebuilding and reforming the city together. As such, they often had activities after work hours that Shion inevitably dragged himself to, because he understood the importance of maintaining strong work connections.

Tonight, Shuichi had been particularly insistent, and Akihiko had teasingly assured him that no one would make fun of him for avoiding alcoholic drinks. It was for a good reason, though; last time Shion had gotten inebriated, everyone in the near vicinity had been treated to a far-too-detailed story about explosions and a beautiful young man with argent eyes.

So here Shion was, seated awkwardly at a large round table in a dimly-lit, smoky club. He was sitting alone, claiming the entire table for the rest of his coworkers so they could head over to the bar and get drinks, and despite the people swarming around, he felt out-of-place.

He pulled out his phone to shoot a quick message to Nezumi, who had mentioned something about being out at an odd job tonight, saying he'd be home late. Shion then started scrolling through his email, flagging messages with valuable information to come back to tomorrow morning.

And then two things happened at once. One, his phone vibrated and displayed a cryptic message from Nezumi: _'I see. -N'_ , and, two, a hand clapped down on his shoulder. Shion jumped and nearly dropped his phone.

"Texting that boyfriend of yours again? Could just tell him to join you right now, yeah," Shuichi declared, a wide grin on his face and a large drink in his hand.

Despite himself, Shion blushed. It was basically common knowledge that he was with someone, and that the someone was called Nezumi; it'd been obvious when Shion stopped drowning himself in his work, and it wasn't like Shion tried to conceal the relationship. He just didn't openly talk about Nezumi much, out of respect for the other man's mysterious air.

"I can't, he's got a gig tonight," Shion said, and was about to continue when the lights dimmed even further and Shuichi plopped down into his seat with a sigh.

"Just in time!" he said, gesturing for Shion to focus his attention to the stage. As if -- and probably -- on cue, a spotlight shot on and someone strode onto it. She was short and decked out like a princess, with an elaborate pink dress and blond hair curled into ringlets that framed her face.

In a peppy voice, she introduced herself as Alice, and, once the music started playing, she began to dance. The audience cheered her on, some beginning to clap to the beat of the music. The woman bounced to it. Her energetic movements matched the jaunty music and made her seem to defy gravity as she flounced across the stage and attached herself to the top of a pole.

She spun slowly down it, winking at the audience as her dress began to slide off her body. Shion looked away, choosing instead to look at his phone in his lap, where he'd downloaded _One Thousand and One Nights_. He felt more comfortable being entranced by Scheherazade spinning tales than by the woman spinning on the pole.

Not long after, the audience burst into raucous applause, which Shion joined in on because it felt rude to remain quiet. He watched as the girl flashed a smile then bowed, making her shawl fall open to reveal that she had nothing but a small thong and pasties on. Thankfully, her shawl draped back over her body as she stood up, then seemed to float off the stage and into the audience.

Shuichi nudged Shion's shoulder as he said, "look where she's going!"

Shion looked, still a bit hesitant, and saw her slide up against a man in the audience, chest in front of his face. Shion must have looked extremely confused, because Shuichi continued, “almost every performer picks someone in the audience and gives them, ah, special treatment! I mean, you gotta pay up afterwards, but _man_ , it’s something special.”

Shion didn’t really get it, but who was he to spoil his coworkers’ fun? There was, though, something hungry about the mood in the room that made Shion vaguely uneasy.

They chatted causally until around ten minutes later, the lights darkened again, and Shuichi’s attention was wrenched away from Shion. As before, the spotlight shot on, and someone stepped out, somberly placing every step.

“Ohhh, man. Haven’t seen this one in a while. She’s special, never lets anyone touch her,” said Shuichi, not taking his eyes off the stage. He didn’t really seem to be talking to Shion at all.

Tall and slender, with trailing black hair and a long and flowing dress, the person cut a striking figure, their silhouette sharp against the stage lights that glared at Shion.

The light blinding light swept off the stage, leaving the performer illuminated by nothing but a soft glow. He could now see the dark scarlet shade of the performer’s dress, the way its ruby hues seemed to shimmer in the ambient lighting, but the performer’s face was still in shadow. Shion thought it was all terribly dramatic, though there was something boldly artistic about it.

The performer neither bowed, nor smiled, nor introduced themself, but the club fell silent.

And then they spoke.

_"How heavy do I journey on the way…_

Shion _jolted_ at the familiar voice – deeper than that of the average woman, yet somehow ringing unmistakably feminine, a full and rich tone. It was Nezumi, he was sure of it.

_…thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!_

The performer suddenly looked up, and Shion could swear their eyes met, because it felt like the shimmering, piercing grey stole the air right out of his lungs in a gasp. He hung onto Nezumi’s every word, letting the cadence and sound wash over him.

_…my grief lies onward, and my joy behind._

Nezumi’s voice cracked on the last few words, trailing off breathy and desolate, like the tail end of a sob. At the silence, Shion felt bereft, a shadow of the pain of being left behind twinging his chest.

No one clapped. The stillness that permeated the bar was highly unusual, but it seemed like again, all waited with bated breath. And then the lights brightened and took on a reddish hue.

_Thus can my love excuse the slow offence…_

Nezumi’s voice was suddenly powerful and determined, again, words making Shion’s pulse thrum with the energy of the sonnet.

_…though mounted on the wind, in winged speed, no motion shall I know…_

A flurry of motion, a swish of cloth, and suddenly, Nezumi was clad in a lot less, the crimson dress having flared out behind him like wings on an intangible gust of wind. And then the image of the restrained, tormented wanderer was gone, replaced by a person driven to rapture by the force of their passion; as if in thinking of the love they’d left, they’d taken leave of their senses.

_…with my desire keep pace!_

Shion lost what Nezumi was saying as Nezumi tossed his hair back, the black locks tumbling down his back as he dragged his hands across his chest to splay them out at his sides. He held still, his last, forceful utterance still ringing in the air.

_Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made…_

Slower now, Nezumi did something with his hips that drew Shion’s attention fully to the way his body undulated in a mimicry of, well, love being made. He leaned forward, impassioned gaze sweeping across the audience but landing on Shion.

_But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade…_

There was no mistaking it. Nezumi _was_ clearly speaking at him. Shion leaned forward in his seat, enraptured, completely unashamed of how… _drawn_ to Nezumi he was, magnetized by the actor’s presence.

_Since from thee going, he went willful-slow…_

Nezumi said, hand pressed against his chest – distinctly masculine, painfully attractive – and eyes cast downward, their glimmering silver obscured by dark, long eyelashes.

_…toward thee I’ll run!_

The words were nearly shouted, so raw that Shion _ached_. Nezumi punctuated his phrase with a stomp of his heeled shoe, spreading his legs apart in a movement that was somehow graceful despite the wide stance. It was probably the way the triangle of his legs displayed his svelte body and the narrowness of his hips, Shion decided.

_...and give him leave to go.”_

Nezumi ended the sonnet with his hands held in front of him, seeming to let the metaphor fly free and separate himself from the steed he’d likened himself to earlier.

"Sonnets 50 and 51, William Shakespeare," Nezumi said, then picked up his dress as he walked by the stand it'd landed on. He strode behind the curtains, every movement as graceful as ever, and Shion would have stared stupidly at the empty stage for much longer if Shuichi hadn't elbowed him.  
   
“And that, my friend, was Eve! Quotes nothing but fancy poetry, but looks really beautiful in a rare sorta way” Shuichi said, leaning back in his seat.

“I…know, um, that's m-”

“Oh wow, you really liked that, didn’t you? Shoulda expected it, with all those books you keep reading.”

Shion was finding it exceedingly difficult to even think of words. Eve was approaching them, dress back on, sweeping through the crowd like an untouchable goddess amidst the rabble. Before he knew it, Eve had approached him and elegantly seated themself in his lap.

Shion squirmed backward against the seat, because Eve was approaching some particularly active parts of his anatomy. “Nezumi!” he hissed, throwing a warning look at the performer. Indistinctly, he heard one of his coworkers chuckle.

“Who? I, for one, am no _rat_ ” the performer responded, affronted, and Shion would have been worried he’d mistaken their identity and offended them but for the mischievous sparkle in their familiar grey eyes.

He sighed, then set a hand on Eve’s shoulder. “You’re, you’re seriously going to do this? I mean, you know I, ugh, _Eve_ , people from my workplace are _right there_ , and I-”

Eve cut him off with a kiss, an extremely unusual move in a lap dance. “Your majesty talks too much. And touches too much as well,” Eve said as they brushed Shion’s hand off their shoulder. Shion set his hands on the sides of the chair, unsure of what to do and honestly very much shocked by Eve’s lips on his mere moments ago. He and Nezumi had been together for years, but Nezumi still had the skill to stun Shion with a deep kiss whenever he wanted to.

And then Eve rocked their hips backward, straight into Shion’s crotch, and Shion had to clench the sides of the chair to maintain even a shred of his composure. His face was positively on fire, and the flames low in his gut weren’t far behind. He felt like he was going to explode as Eve circled their hips once more, then craned their neck again to catch Shion’s mouth in a kiss.

Nezumi as Eve _definitely_ did not kiss like Nezumi as himself. The tacky texture of their lipstick smeared on Shion’s lips, and the sweet taste of their lip-gloss blossomed in Shion’s mouth as Eve’s tongue delved in, far more delicately than Nezumi's usual straightforward affection.

Shion desperately wanted to cup Eve’s face, because that was how he and Nezumi usually kissed, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, holding onto necks, shoulders, cheeks, wrists, but right now, he’d been told not to touch. He didn't want to see what would happen if he did. His entire body felt like it was flushing red but for his knuckles, which were white from how hard he was grabbing the chair.

Eve slid about Shion, dancing fluidly and seeming to be merely using his body as a prop, testing Shion’s restraint as he strained to keep his body in control, keep his hands from grasping Nezumi. The light touches of Nezumi's fingers down his cheeks, his lips, his chest, were driving Shion positively mad; he felt like if Eve crawled into his lap again and did that _thing_ with their hips, it'd all be over for him.

But before he could completely embarrass himself in front of his colleagues, Eve stood up and curtseyed delicately with a suggestive smile. Shion stared, completely floored, mussed hair and red face only emphasising his disheveled appearance in contrast to the perfectly composed Eve.

"Wow, Shion, do you know how lucky you are?” “Wait, you have a boyfriend, right? Is he ok-” “Eve _never_ favours anyone in the audience!"

Exclamations came from Shion’s coworkers as Eve swept toward the Employees Only room, tossing one last inviting glance in Shion’s direction.

Willing his flaming face to cool, he looked toward the floor and adjusted his coat over his lap.

"That was my, uh, that was Nezumi."

And through the awed murmur that swept through his coworkers, he could pick out the words "like I said, lucky".

Shion agreed.


	16. the apparel oft proclaims the man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Masks
> 
> It's just a pun, bro.
> 
> Title from _Hamlet_ , act 1 scene 3

Nezumi glared at Inukashi as they and Shion grinned at him.

He was dressed in a tight black bodysuit, which had gotten him quite a few heated stares from Shion earlier – it emphasised his musculature quite impressively, if he did say so himself. He’d also gotten to keep his black boots and superfibre cloth, although he was wearing the latter more like a cloak than his usual bulky scarf.

So, it was all basically normal, except.... except for the stupid yellow belt and mask with rounded rat ears he had to wear. It obstructed his peripheral vision and framed his eyes in a way he thought made him look stupid, no matter how much Shion insisted it made the silver glint of his eyes look even prettier.

It was all because of Inukashi and their damn stupid bet. He opened his mouth to criticise their dog-themed costume, but as if on cue, Shion started humming.

“Na na na na na na-“

“RATMAN!” Shion and Inukashi exclaimed in unison.

Nezumi facepalmed.


	17. a touch, a touch, i do confess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Massage
> 
> Title from _Hamlet_ , act 5 scene 2.

“Can I try something new on you?”

The dreaded phrase.

“What?” Nezumi said. He was tired and sore from a day at the theatre; for the past few days, they’d had him help set up the props because _apparently_ he was one of the only people strong enough to move a painted piece of plywood. He called bullshit, but there was nothing he could do about it, he wasn’t going to show weakness.

“You’ve been rolling your shoulders in discomfort for a few days now, can I give you a massage? It might help!” Shion said, sounding way too earnest.

“And how do I know you’re not going to hit a pressure point and immobilise me?” Nezumi questioned, although in asking the question, he was basically agreeing to Shion’s mad plan.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Nezumi! And besides, I’m pretty sure I know how to -- I found a book in your library and it explained the concept fairly thoroughly. For example, the pressure and stimulation on the muscles facilitates the release of lactic acid from them, reducing soreness and improving circulation…”

Nezumi zoned out as Shion explained. He felt uncomfortable letting Shion near his back and neck, but…Shion had already had so many opportunities to kill him and he’d taken exactly none of them. He should be fine as long as he stayed vigilant and monitored where Shion’s hands wandered. And besides, this was the same boy who’d merely read about medical procedures and yet gave him functional stitches at age twelve.

“Alright,” he said, cutting Shion off, “have at me, your majesty.”

He did not miss the dusting of pink that blossomed across Shion’s cheeks. Interesting.

“The ideal position would be if you laid on your front so I could get at your back, howev-”

“No way.”

“What if you sat on the stool and I stood behind you?” Shion seemed to have picked up on Nezumi’s unease at the thought of being pinned down and unable to move freely.

Nezumi nodded, stripped off his jacket and cloak, then went to sit down on the stool. That wasn’t so bad, and he could just reach back and restrain Shion if it was getting too overwhelming. Shion may have been surprisingly strong, but he hadn’t grown up toughened by the West Block like Nezumi had. He pulled his shirt off and waited.

His shoulders jolted at the first light touch of Shion’s hands and his entire back stiffened. But then Shion’s palms smoothed down his shoulders and back up, gliding over the sides of his neck.  
   
“Relax, Nezumi, you’re just making yourself stiffer that way.”

At Shion’s gentle command, Nezumi took a deep breath, held it, then released it. He did so several times, and when he’d finally calmed himself, he became aware that Shion was mumbling something under his breath, his words a soothing rhythm.

“…just going to start slow to get you a bit more relaxed, otherwise I think I might accidentally hurt you. I'm going up your levator scapulae now, kind of also along the superior part of your trapezius, but I’m not pressing, just sort of, warming you up, I think. Is it working?”

Nezumi hummed to indicate yes, and Shion continued to list off muscle groups as his hands traveled along Nezumi’s shoulders and upper back, careful to avoid getting too touchy with his neck. His wariness slowly ebbed away, draining from his body like the tension in his muscles.

Eventually, the airy touches began solidifying, the pressure from Shion's fingertips digging into the knots in Nezumi's shoulders and back. Despite himself, Nezumi began to lean into Shion's touches, which, though still adept, were growing less and less clinical, becoming almost exploratory. Knowing Shion, he was matching Nezumi's muscular structures with an anatomical diagram in his mind, but there was something _softer_ about the way he ran his hands over Nezumi.

The touches felt like caresses, somehow making Nezumi feel safe and cared for, like the way Shion often made him feel, but even more so. Although his mind was hazing over with equal parts relaxation and confused arousal, he still picked up on some of Shion's words. There were Shion's palms smoothing over the span of his -- Shion had called it something technical -- trapezius, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the curve of his shoulder, his deltoids -- anterior, lateral, posterior.

Nezumi was aware of the heat thrumming through his body, tempered though it was by his serene state.

In a single moment, the delicate peace was shattered. Shion accidentally dug a fingernail into the contour of Nezumi's scapula, making Nezumi arch and tilt his head back with a moan. His upper back briefly pressed against a hard ridge, and then Shion's hands were off his back. What the hell?

Without Shion radiating warmth so close to him, the chill suddenly hit Nezumi. He snapped back to full awareness, stood up, and turned, only to see Shion a solid two metres away, back against a bookshelf and hands on his knees.

Bizarre.

"Hey, I was just starting to like that. Why'd you stop?" Nezumi said, a bit petulantly.

Shion looked up with a heavy blush and a flustered, almost panicked expression, and Nezumi would have teased him if he hadn't followed Shion's line of sight, which trailed down his body, lingered at his crotch, and then flicked away.

It hit Nezumi that cargo pants really didn't hide much.

And neither did Shion's slacks.

He finally put two and two together, and by the time he realised what part of Shion he'd pressed back against earlier, he was sure his face was on fire as well.

The two stared at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

Nezumi made to step forward, and Shion _bolted_. The bathroom door slammed.

Willing the strain in his pants to subside, Nezumi stumbled to the couch and flopped on it, reaching beneath it to extract the book he kept around for just this purpose: _Jane Eyre_ , boner killer extraordinaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #cockblocked
> 
> I was going to make it smut but there's something...weird(?) about writing canon smut because of Nezumi's issues with physical contact.


	18. having traffic with thy self alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Masturbation
> 
> I swear I was going to write Shion's POV too, but then I decided getting caught up was a better idea. Will make a note on future chapters when this is updated.
> 
> Warning: this is a crackfic
> 
> Title from Sonnet IV

Your name is Nezumi, and _what the fuck did you just walk in in_.

Or climb in on. Whatever.

Once you'd made up your mind to return to Shion, you'd always planned to return through his window -- partially because of symbolic significance and partially because you have a preference for the dramatic.

You had easily scaled Shion's house and had just planted one boot on the windowsill when you heard groan your name in the most sensual voice you'd ever heard from him. It's deeper and more masculine, of course, but after a few years, you'd expected that.

For the record, you blame your own anticipation and nervousness and excitement for the lapse in your typically acute observation skills. Had it not been for your own pulse pounding in your ears as you climbed toward the most important person in your life, you would have easily heard his softer gasps and exhalations.

As it is, the surprise of hearing your name and seeing him with his cock in hand leads to a reunion you'd never imagined. Your other boot -- the one with the untucked pant leg -- catches on the windowsill and you go sprawling onto his bedroom floor with a crash.

_Owwww._

Shion screeches, and you hear aggressive rustling of fabric from where he is. Slowly, ignoring the pain in your forehead, you roll over to look at Shion, who's standing in nothing but a shirt pulled low and holding a knife. He's got the most confused, terrified, embarrassed, and hopeful expression, and it's somehow endearing to you.

You just have to deliver _one_ clever line before everything accelerates even more quickly downhill, though.

"You called, your majesty?"


	19. a rose by any other other name would smell just as sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Olfactophilia 
> 
> y'all have no idea how tempted I was to title this chapter "I loved o(lfacto)phelia!", _Hamlet_ , act 5 scene 1
> 
> Anyways yeah have an american college nezushi au I guess.
> 
> Title from _Romeo and Juliet_ , act 2 scene 2

Nezumi's wanderlust and Shion's curiosity were insatiable, and that was why, for spring break, they'd rented a car and gone on a week-long road trip across the northwest US.

Road trips across varied biomes were always interesting to Shion, especially when he wasn't driving, because he could look out the window and observe the changing landscape. Sometimes it was sudden, like a city springing out of a long stretch of vegetation, but other times, the terrain morphed -- from a plain to smooth hills to jagged mountains. 

Last he remembered, he'd been watching the distant mountains as Nezumi drove along the long stretch of highway across the plain, but now all he could see was dark grey. The car was still moving, engine humming, Nezumi's audiobook of _The Two Towers_ was still going on the radio, and the cloth over his face smelled familiar.

The texture was familiar as well, he'd felt it against his face almost every time he and Nezumi had embraced. Still in a bit of a sleepy haze, Shion let his eyes fall shut, bunched the fabric against his face, and breathed in. 

His lungs filled with Nezumi's scent, and he held the breath for a moment before releasing it with a happy sigh. It smelled distinctly of Nezumi: there were hints of the musty yet homey smell of old book, a few fragrant notes of some perfume, and the undertone of sweat, which was somehow appealing. Shion blamed it on pheromones.

The thick and warm cloth made him feel like he was in bed, and the smell of it created the suggestion that he was cuddling with Nezumi.

Unintentionally, his recollection of cuddling became more explicit -- they'd done more than just cuddled in their hotel room bed a few nights ago. And then suddenly, his sweatpants were far too tight.

Ugh.

Nothing for it, but _hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium,_

"I see his majesty is awake, sleep well?"

"-magnesium, uh, yeah, I-" Shion yanked the cloth away from his face and deposited it in his lap, even though it was so large it was basically already covering most of his body.

"-had unusually arousing dreams about elements? Huh. Learn something new everyday, I guess."

"Nezumi, keep your eyes on the road," Shion grumbled, embarrassed by the fact that Nezumi had noticed his arousal and was joking about it.

"Doesn't take more than a glance to spot what you're packing, you're not exactly subtle, you know," Nezumi said as he fumbled in the center console, keeping one hand on the wheel.

A moment later, he tossed a wad of tissues at Shion, who caught them and stared at him in confusion.

"Just don't make a mess," Nezumi said, returning his eyes to the road. It may have been a long, straight stretch of highway with nobody around, but road safety was important, especially with Shion in the car with him.

Pause.

"…what?" 

Another pause.

"Seriously? Never jerked it in a car before?" Nezumi asked, seeming to entirely miss the point of Shion's recitation of the periodic table.

"No?!" Shion exclaimed as his face flared redder than before. He seemed to consider his next words for few seconds before his curiosity overtook him. "Have you?"

"Nope. Never gotten the chance to, I've always either been the driver or riding with an acquaintance. Now if I were you, right now…" 

Shion took a moment to will the mental image of Nezumi getting off out of his mind, then frowned. "Wouldn't that affect your driving? Because if _I_ was driving and you were masturbating in the passenger's seat, I wouldn't be able to focus, you'd be so attractive that I'd be dying to touch you."

"That's because you're an airhead," said Nezumi, although he had to admit that Shion had a point. "An airhead with a chemistry fetish."

An affronted look flashed across Shion's face. "I do _not_ have a chemistry fetish, I was reciting the elements to calm down?"

"So it wasn't chemistry that worked you up in the first place? Good to know science hasn't usurped my position as prime boner inducer."

For all his eloquence, Nezumi was prone to bouts of crude language. It added to his mysterious badass image, he thought.

"It was your scarf; it smells like you and made me think of a few nights ago, when you rolled over me and hugged me while we were in bed and then you started to-"

"Stop. Oh my god, stop that, what the fuck, Shion. I was there, in case you forgot, I don't need a play-by-play," he complained, sounding exasperated. 

However, Shion noticed, the way Nezumi's ears and the back of his neck were tinged pink told a different story. Shion grinned. It seemed like he wasn't the only one to get turned on by recalling their concupiscent activities.

He covered his grin with his hands so Nezumi wouldn't question why he was grinning at nothing, but in doing so, he inadvertently brought the cloth back up to his face. Instinctively, he nuzzled against it before he stopped himself. He was supposed to be calming down, damn it!

"…you really weren't kidding about liking that thing, were you. Just to let you know, it hasn't been washed in a few weeks and it's been through two rainshowers, backsplash from a car, a spill of tea, a trip across the floor of this car, probably dog piss, and a spritz of a co-actress's perfume…"

"Congratulations. You're even better than dry science at deflating erections," Shion said sourly, dropping his hands. He would have thrown the cloth at Nezumi's face too, if the other man hadn't been driving.

Taken by surprise, Nezumi started laughing, and it wasn't long before Shion joined him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing about nezushi cockblocking themselves is my forte


	20. or I am he am born to tame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Pet Play
> 
> IT TOOK A WHILE BUT I AM NOW CAUGHT UP!  
> Edit: heck this is supposed to be day 20 i cri  
>  
> 
> Title from _The Taming of the Shrew_ , act 2 scene 1

Nezumi's rats are not pets. They're his partners in crime, he supposes. They infiltrate, carry messages, and monitor, and they're damn good at it.

Inukashi's dogs are not pets. They're their family. They fight, salvage, and function as heaters, and they're fucking amazing at it.

Somehow, Shion's influence makes them&domestic. Nezumi's not sure how else to describe the way Shion's presence calms these animals, borderline feral, to something like pets. It's not that Shion treats them like inferiors, it's almost like he treats them as equals, as friends.

It's weird. In the end, Nezumi just chalks it up to Shion's _Shionness_. He's just a natural.


	21. sore labour's bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: Shower/Bath
> 
> Title from _Macbeth_ , act 2 scene 2

For all he talked about being frugal and conserving resources, Nezumi spent an awful lot of time in the shower with the hot water at full blast. However, with his and Shion's current positions as actor and council member, respectively, there was no worry of running out of resources. Nezumi was just making up for all the times his showers were rare, short, and frigid, back when he was a teenager in the West Block.

Shion liked that Nezumi was learning that he could indulge himself, but he was bored, and a bit sexually frustrated; to be honest, he was terribly horny. Shion was either on short trips out to areas of need, or at the office all day. Nezumi had a performance coming up, so rehearsals were eating up most of his time. In short, the two of them hadn't been able to spend much time together.

And Nezumi was squandering those precious moments on a shower. A solitary shower. A Shionless shower.

This wouldn't do. Shion set down the book he was reading, stripped down to his boxers, and headed over to the bathroom, where his partner's melodic singing could be heard over the rushing water of the shower. He slipped into the bathroom and caught the flash of Nezumi's surprised but pleased grin before he masked it with a flat stare.

"I see his majesty has invited himself into his bathchamber, though it is rather obviously occupied. You need something?"

"You."

With that simple answer, Shion slipped out of his boxers and sidled up behind Nezumi in the shower. The water that hit his shoulders was shockingly scalding, though Shion really should have expected it; Nezumi liked his showers the way he liked his soup -- piping hot (and presumably not too salty).

Shion didn't wait for a reaction from Nezumi, instead just brushing his streams of hair aside and pressing his mouth to where the back of his neck met his shoulder. The taste of soap invaded his mouth, sharp and bitter. He spluttered and tried to rinse with the drizzling water.

Nezumi chuckled lightly as he watched Shion flail. Once Shion's struggles subsided though, he turned around, letting their wet bodies slide together, and tilted his chin up to kiss him, softly and perfectly chastely. He knew full well what Shion wanted -- he could practically feel the frustration emanating from Shion in waves --, but he just wanted to mess with him.

With nearly teenage levels of clumsiness, Shion rushed to deepen the kiss. He licked at Nezumi's lips almost hungrily before delving inside with no fitness whatsoever. It was sloppy. It was gross. It was amazing.

The water coursing out of their hair and down their faces effectively rinsed away the excess saliva as Shion all but attacked Nezumi's mouth, which significantly reduced the messiness of Shion's enthusiastic kissing. Nezumi just sort of let him do his thing and get it out of his system.

Where Shion was all unstudied, raw passion, Nezumi preferred a more methodical approach, at least until he too lost his cool. While there was definitely something appealing about the way Shion sometimes kissed like he was starving for Nezumi's taste, Nezumi preferred slower kisses, though he was no less passionate.

He'd capture Shion's lips with his own, peck him gently, lips parting a bit more each time until his tongue could dart out and flick against Shion's lips. He'd angle their heads to slide their mouths together, sucking on Shion's lips and tongue to coax out the most adorable sounds.

Shion nipped at Nezumi's lower lip, and despite his attempt at maintaining a veneer of cool, Nezumi groaned and clenched his hands over Shion's ass, making his hips rock forward against Nezumi's thigh. 

At that, Nezumi shoved Shion back against the wall of the shower trapping him there with his entire body. Shion's head tilted against the tile of the wall as he panted harshly in the streamy cubicle. His eyes were closed but his lips were parted, making him look exquisitely irresistible. 

Nezumi boosted him up the wall more, then tugged at one of Shion's legs to get it around his hips. Even though the water made their skin glide against each other, Nezumi couldn't fuck Shion, nor vice versa, at least not without a thorough preparation first. And he just didn't have the patience for that right now, so heated grinding it was.

"Ah, Nezumi, you sure you can-" Shion interjected as his foot left the ground.

"Hush. You're not that heavy, I got you."

He caught Shion's hand, stopping him from palming all over Nezumi's back, and pulled it between their bodies. Once there, Shion knew what to do; he took both his and Nezumi's erections in hand and started stroking. Nezumi settled his palm over Shion's, in a sense holding his hand as they jerked off.

Shion stroked them together a few times, then twisted nimble fingers over the head of their cocks, making Nezumi cry out and drop his head to his shoulder. Shion's palm was like a fire working over his length, and Nezumi felt like he was being shaken from the core.

His body was trembling, his legs were slightly shaky, and he took that as a sign of just how fucking amazing Shion was. He thrust up into their grip, quickening the rhythm. The hot water still pelting his back and the steam hanging heavy in the air added to the heated, frantic pace of their frottage.

And then Shion's free hand, which had been wandering over the dips and curves of Nezumi's back, slipped into his hair, tangled into the dark locks, and _tugged_.

Like a puppet with its strings yanked haphazardly, Nezumi's legs suddenly gave out. He barely had time to shout before his ass hit the tile -- still stunningly cold despite the warm water flowing over it -- and Shion's weight slammed down on his thighs.

A loud bang resonated through the shower, a solid full stop to the dialogue of their gasps and moans.

All of a sudden, everything hurt. He'd had worse, of course, but the pain seemed to have evicted any arousal from his body. The sensual atmosphere of moments ago too was gone. Gone, except for the fact that Shion's skin was still flushed red and his hand was still on his own cock. Nezumi supposed he had never taken it off.

Nezumi groaned in pain, then decided _oh, to hell with it, he'd at least get Shion off_. Before Shion could fully register his discomfort, Nezumi directed his attention to the head of Shion's cock, rolling his thumb and forefinger over it as he focused on Shion's breathy cries. It was seconds before Shion shot off over Nezumi's hand, curling forward toward him. Shion never did have much stamina when Nezumi did that.

He gave Shion a few seconds to bask in the afterglow, then nudged his shoulder.

"'ey. Get off, already. You're heavy."

"Just did. And didn't you just say I wasn't that heavy?" Shion said sassily, though he complied, crawling off of Nezumi and stepping over him to get back into the shower stream.

The knife-sharp glare Nezumi shot at him slid off him as fluidly as water droplets off his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any random words missing from a sentence, pls tell me. It's past three am and I fell asleep twice trying to write


	22. 'tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white/ naure's own sweet and cunning hand laid on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: Scars
> 
> Post reunion, domestic dorks in love
> 
> The worst part about challenges is losing steam *zombie sounds*
> 
> Title from _Twelfth Night_ , act 1 scene 5

Nezumi loved Shion’s serpentine scar, not just because it was a symbol of Shion’s will to survive, but because it was just aesthetically pleasing. It was a textured red band that wound across his body, startling against the pale backdrop of Shion’s pale skin and hair. And with the way he knew it went all the way down Shion’s body, the way the scar crept beneath Shion’s shirt was even more irresistible.

Irresistible to the point that sometimes, Nezumi just couldn’t help himself. He’d lean in toward Shion and peck his scarred cheek whenever, whether they were reading, or baking, or when Shion was working. If he was feeling more playful, he’d dart his tongue out to lick at the scar – its texture never failed to be interesting, and the way Shion’s entire face would flush, even after years of this, never failed to be adorable.

Now, Shion was mixing something up in the kitchen, something that seemed like it wanted to be a whitish blob and was only very reluctantly allowing itself to be separated into smaller dollops. Nezumi had been half reviewing his script, half observing Shion, but now the ratio of where his attention was delegated was solidly tilting in favour of Shion.

He couldn't focus on his script, not with the way Shion's expert movements drew his attention. For an airhead who was typically so clumsy, Shion was graceful when he was in the bakery. There was no point resisting, so Nezumi set the script down in a (rare) clear spot on the counter and glided over to rest his hands around Shion’s waist. Nezumi was still letting himself get used to indulging in casual displays of affection that weren’t masked as insincere flirtation, and this was something he'd grown comfortable with.

At the contact, Shion turned around with a radiant smile on his face, so cheerful and bright that Nezumi felt like he was melting. This was a common occurrence. Shion in his element was dazzling, and Nezumi would never get used to it.

“Hey. What’re you making?” Nezumi asked, voice a bit muffled from how the lower half of his face was buried in Shion’s fluffy mop of hair.

“A batch of daifuku!” Shion said, turning back to the counter and separating another blob.

“Sounds delicious.”

He leaned over Shion’s shoulder to watch the other man work (and to increase the contact between their bodies) for a few moments before turning his head to kiss him on the cheek. Shion was just too cute, wrapped in a pastel pink apron with his hands powdered as white as his hair by shiratamako.

Nezumi was about to retreat to a short distance away when he reflexively licked his lips and tasted sweetness. Experimentally, he licked his lips again, and this time, he was able to confirm _definitely_ the sugary hint.

Of course, the only logical way to proceed was to lean back in and lick Shion’s scar.

The saccharine taste hit him even more strongly, and it was _amazing_. Next thing he knew, he was full-on, open-mouthed kissing Shion’s scar, and when his eyes slid open again, he noticed that Shion was side-eyeing him, amusement clear in his sparkling eyes.

He recoiled, face heating up. Self-control. Self-control was a thing he had – but, almost involuntarily, he licked his lips again. His sweet tooth was insatiable.

And then, out of nowhere, Shion started giggling. Not even laughing, or chuckling, but the type of giggling that should have been weird for a grown man, but was somehow still beyond adorable because it was Shion.

“You…haha, Nezumi, your _face_!”

“Yeah? What of it,” Nezumi said sourly, the frown on his face morphing into a pout that would not have been out-of-place on a toddler.

“So _perplexed!_ ” Shion explained, struggling through his bubbling laughter. “I probably just got a bit of confectioners’ sugar on my face, ha, which you wouldn’t even know if you didn’t randomly lick my scar. But, Nezumi, that was really cute, you made this happy sound and then your face did-”

Shion made a dopey expression that Nezumi sincerely hoped hadn’t been on his own face. He ducked his face against Shion’s shoulder, hiding his blush while Shion slowly calmed his laughter.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the section of the scar that curled around Shion’s neck. He tilted his head and pressed his lips against it, inhaling Shion's scent.

Nezumi could feel Shion jump at the sensation, but he didn’t give him a moment to recover. He parted his lips, then licked across the textured band of skin as Shion gasped and his hands dropped down to grasp Nezumi’s arms where they were wrapped around his waist.

Good. Shion’s gasps were far more pleasant than his giggles at the expense of Nezumi’s momentary lapse in judgement.

The skin of Shion’s neck wasn’t sweet like the stripe across his cheek, but instead tasted like his skin, a taste that, despite not being particularly specific, Nezumi was pleasantly familiar with. He sucked at the scar, kissing it like he was trying to leave a mark even though it was basically impossible to make anything show through the thickened, red skin.

Shion had been reduced to choked off gasps and shaky breathing, so Nezumi pulled away before he could get _himself_ too worked up. It was probably safe to say that Shion wouldn’t be exploding into another fit of of giggles any time soon.

Nezumi cupped Shion's cheek in one hand and smirked at him as he took in his dazed and aroused expression. Fucking _hot_ , he was. He kissed Shion, just a long press of lips on lips, punctuated by a teasing lick, and then pulled back out of reach.

He schooled his features into a thoughtful expression, though the amusement in his eyes could not be concealed. Like a connoisseur, he hummed, considering, then delivered his verdict.

"It's not just your scar… _you're_ as delectable as ever, my sweet prince."


	23. that i am that same wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: Against a wall
> 
> y'know, technically all of no.6 was (a fight) against a wall
> 
> Title from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , act 5 scene 1  
> (the title isn't deep or anything, I just really like this scene)

After the pain caused by their 'promise of reunion' kiss, 'welcome home' kisses were a soothing routine for Nezumi and Shion. They'd kiss as a greeting when one returned from his work, and they'd kiss before going to bed (together, of course), but they'd never, ever kiss goodbye.

The kisses had started chaste -- a quick peck and a cheery smile from Shion, or a solid and insistent meeting of their lips from Nezumi. Afterwards, there'd be no change in thr way they acted around each other; they behaved like they were closer than close friends, but nothing more.

But then, as if inevitably magnetised by each other's presence, the kisses began to linger, the air between them growing heated with their quickened breaths. Shion would press his mouth against Nezumi's until his lungs ached for oxygen before retreating, hastily saying his customary 'welcome home' in a breathy voice mere millimetres away from Nezumi's lips.

Nezumi's lips would part against Shion's, an invitation even as he tried to taste Shion as best as he could. Shion hadn't yet taken the invitation, hadn't yet licked at the seam of Nezumi's lips nor poked inquisitively at that wet warmth. Nezumi was always left wanting desperately to pursue Shion's lips with his own, but there was some line he was afraid to cross.

What if the fervent way he wanted to kiss Shion reminded him of the rawness of the kiss Nezumi had given him years ago, right before departing? What if, by deepening the kiss, he'd cross some unspoken line that had come into existence without him knowing?

There was something different now, something that hadn't been so strongly present when they'd lived together for those brief months, as teens. Nezumi didn't know how to interpret the tension that hung between them now.

It could have been sexual tension -- not _unlikely_ , considering that he and Shion were two men in their twenties who were very much attracted to each other -- but it could also have been a multitude of other reasons. What reasons? Nezumi couldn't say. He had a ridiculous number of worries despite the fact that he could read Shion like, well, an open book.

Shion didn't deem to sense his anxieties. The first time he deepened a kiss with Nezumi seemed simply a natural progression, just like how everything else between them used to be. He'd held the kiss way too long, as usual, but before pulling away, he'd flicked the tip of his tongue across Nezumi's lip.

A breathy, choked-off whine escaped Nezumi; he'd held back for so long that even Shion's small foray into something slightly more sexual tested his self-control.

Shion hadn't said 'welcome home', like usual; he just stood there, cheeks rosy, gaze fixed on Nezumi as Nezumi tried to compose himself.

He failed.

One look at Shion' flushed face, one glimpse of the way Shion's tongue flicked out to wet his kiss-reddened lips, and Nezumi was _gone_ , his worries washed away by the sudden wave of passion. With a groan, he surged forward, tilting Shion's chin up and kissing him solidly.

Nezumi angled his head to the right and kissed Shion as hard as he could without smashing their teeth together. His head swam and his fingers shook, though he couldn't tell why; he could barely even _think_ through the wave of lust.

And then Shion snaked his arms around Nezumi's neck and clung on tight as he arched his body toward Nezumi. The full-body contact helped Nezumi ground himself and made him feel less like he was floating and melting and being washed away at the same time.

He held Shion, sliding a hand from the other’s chin to the back of his head, holding him close with his other hand on his lower back. And then he spun them, shoving Shion up against the wall, their lips barely disconnecting for a moment. He tangled his fingers into Shion’s hair, shakily ruffled the soft white hair, and wedged a thigh between his legs.

Shion broke the kiss to gasp for breath, though he didn't let go of Nezumi. He met Nezumi's eyes, and Nezumi felt like he was being seared through, with the way Shion's red irises glowed like embers, though they were minimised by his pupils.

Barely a moment had passed before Shion was diving back in again, kissing Nezumi passionately despite his lack of experience. His lips were open too wide and his tongue was clumsy in Nezumi's mouth, but Nezumi met him equally as desperately, his need for Shion overtaking his skill.

Nezumi felt a tug at the back of his head, and then hair cascading down over his neck, Shion's fingers sliding through the freed tresses. Sharp pinpricks of sensation spread through his scalp, pleasurable amidst the onslaught of stimulation Shion was wreaking upon him. 

A line of saliva trailed down Nezumi's chin, and it felt kind of sticky and gross, but it was insignificant in comparison to how Shion was holding his head in place and kissing him, slowly losing coordination as he tried to grind himself against Nezumi's thigh. Nezumi rocked his own erection against Shion's hip, little aborted thrusts that did nothing to relieve him, but felt so fucking exquisite he couldn't stop.

He palmed over Shion's crotch, feeling the hard ridge of him through his slacks, and inquisitively flicked at the button. Shion would tell him to stop if he didn't want it; his prince never took shit from him. But with the way Shion wrenched away from the kiss to shout as he bucked uncontrollably into Nezumi's grip, it was all fine. 

Everything felt so intense, so sensitive; Nezumi's body _burned_ where Shion's touched him, and his clothes rubbed distractingly over his skin. And yet, it didn't feel enough, so Nezumi braced himself against the wall and shoved his hand down the front of Shion's pants.

At the touch Shion gave up on trying to kiss Nezumi's mouth and instead relocated his face to the crook of Nezumi's neck, where he alternated between sucking at the skin there and just gasping for breath as Nezumi touched him. He didn't have the coordination to do much more than cling to Nezumi as he trembled from the pleasure.

He didn't last long; he'd never had someone else's hand on his cock before, and Nezumi was touching him so intently that he was flooded with need, need that pooled low in his gut, scorching hot. Shion choked out Nezumi's name as he came, curling toward him as the waves of orgasm wracked his body. 

And then he relaxed against the wall, still braced against Nezumi. A sated smile spread over Shion's face, and Nezumi couldn't help but kiss him again, softly, lovingly.

It was quiet and still compared to the way they'd just been frantically clinging to each other. Nezumi still couldn't quite believe it had actually happened, but it _had_. He could never quite predict Shion, especially when Shion brazenly slipped his hand into Nezumi's pants.

Shion's fingers were clumsy, but they felt infinitely better than even his own efficient movements when he got himself off, when the tension between him and Shion got to be too much. Shion's teasingly light, exploratory touches down his shaft made Nezumi shudder. Hell, even the ridiculous amount of time Shion spent poking at his balls did the opposite of turning him off.

When he came, Nezumi melted against Shion, barely stifling a cry. He took several deep breaths to compose himself, then slowly separated himself from Shion, poised to deliver a clever line.

"Well. That happened."

"I've been _trying_ to get you to do that for so long!" Shion exclaimed, just a touch indignant.

Nezumi was taken aback. "What? Why didn't you say something about that, fuck, Shion, couldn't you tell I wanted you?"

"You said you'd teach me about sex, Nezumi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Shion doesn't say here is that of he asked Nezumi to teach him about sex, he'd be about as tactful as Safu asking for sperm.


	24. stand, and unfold yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Exhibitionism/voyeurism
> 
> This fic idea was particularly insistent, even more so than the idea titled "No.69". Anyways, this is a college AU! 
> 
> Title from _Hamlet_ , act 1 scene 1  
> ("unfold", interpreted as to reveal,as in exhibitionism, haha)

Nezumi had never vibrated in excitement for a date before. After all, everyone he'd ever been on a date with had either been Shion or, before him, some casual hookup. He couldn't have cared less about being genuine with a hookup -- the date was just a formality --, and he'd stopped being too self-conscious around Shion -- they'd each seen the other at his worst, after all.

But now, he could barely suppress his excitement. He had a date with Shion in less than ten minutes -- nothing fancy, just an outing to a quiet, local café. It was secluded enough that there wouldn't be too many people, and it had, of all things, tablecloths, which were important.

Why? To conceal what would be going on under the table. Nezumi had been the one to suggest the idea. He'd given Shion the remote controller to the vibrator he'd embedded in himself, _and_ given him full permission to use it however he saw fit during the date.

The thing with Shion was that he was unpredictable. His scientific curiosity might overtake him and make him carefully document how different settings affected Nezumi, or his caution might curb his use of the controller, or perhaps he'd be overtaken by a particular mood and wield his power to the max. Nezumi may never have vibrated in excitement before a date, but he'd be vibrating _during_ the date.

It was just like a high-stakes performance, during which one crack in his high and breathy voice, a momentary return of his usual tenor, would shatter his illusion as young Juliet -- except rather than shattering the illusion, one crack in his façade here would reveal the lewd acts Shion would (hopefully) be performing on him.

Shion could do whatever he wanted to Nezumi, and all Nezumi had to do was call upon his masterful acting skills and act normal. He couldn't wait; he was already feeling the start of an adrenaline rush. He was also already half-hard.

_Goddammit._

Thankfully, he was wearing baggier jeans than his usual date attire of dark skinnies, and his flannel was long enough to obscure everything. He adjusted his ponytail one last time, more of a nervous tic than anything else, grabbed his backpack, then headed out. He'd wait outside the dorm building for Shion, and hopefully the nippy air would have a similar effect to a cold shower.

Nezumi didn't have to wait long. He'd walked out of the building precisely on time, and then had just gotten through a mental run-through of Sonnet 113 when Shion came jogging up, one hand swinging normally at his side and the other buried solidly in his pocket. Nezumi smirked. He knew _exactly_ what was concealed there.

"Hi, Nezumi!"

"Hey yourself. You're late, your majesty."

"Let every man be master of his time," retorted Shion with a cute pout.

"Not when that man has a date t- _ah!_ "Nezumi cut off with a loud gasp as he staggered against the wall behind him. A sudden buzz from the soft silicon vibrator inside him turned his legs briefly to jelly. 

He steadied himself, then stood up straight again, aiming a halfhearted glare at Shion for the unfair tactic. Instead of meeting a smug expression, Nezumi saw Shion's raw, open look of intense curiosity.

"Okay, fuck, you made your point, let's go," Nezumi conceded, voice shaky. He grabbed Shion's hand and tugged him toward the café. What an airhead.

Shion stumbled a couple of steps, then suddenly became animated. "Oh, _wow_ , Nezumi, that was a really extreme reaction, was the vibrator directly contacting your prostate? If so, you should probably move it out a bit so it doesn't feel quite as overwhelming. Unless you want to stop?"

"Jesus christ, Shion, how can you say shit like that with such a straight face? Anyways, no and no. I was just, uh. A but caught off guard. You sure that was the lowest setting?"

"…no." And then, right in the middle of the fucking sidewalk, Shion pulled out the sleek black remoter and hit the lowest setting. It was much softer than the first one Shion had unleashed on him, so Nezumi's breath only caught in his throat. 

"Okay, okay, stop, the point of this is to be discreet, not to hold up a fucking sign that basically screams 'hi! I'm getting my boyfriend off right this moment!', got it?"

"I think you're being more obvious than I am."

Nezumi lowered his hands, which he'd been gesticulating wildly with. His dramatic side really got the best of him sometimes.

The two of them walked to the café, talking about random things -- classes, annoying people, Shion's new lab, Nezumi's latest production. All the while, though Shion didn't turn it on again, Nezumi was hyperaware of the vibrator that he could feel moving inside of him with every stride.

Entering the cafe was like walking into a pocket dimension; the distant sounds of the street were replaced by cheesy pop music blasting from speakers situated around the establishment, the chill was banished by a curtain of heated air. They ordered their drinks: expresso for Shion, the sugariest concoction possible for Nezumi. Then, drinks in hand, they slid into a tablecloth-covered booth.

Shion pulled out his laptop, and Nezumi a book. These were props.

The vibe clicked on to the lowest setting, makingf Nezumi press his thighs together. And then Shion started speaking.

"So how's volunteer work going?"

"Have I mentioned that volunteering as a passing requirement is absolute bullshit? I mean, what, in the life of a theatre major, could possibly could merit such tedium? Grading analyses from high schoolers belongs in the seventh circle of hell," Nezumi said, them took a sip of his…whatever-the-fuck.

At that moment, Shion kicked the vibrations up a notch, and Nezumi almost choked. But then, miraculously, he got himself back under control and took another sip, completely dignified but for the colour in his cheeks.

Shion's lips quirked up, though there was a hint of something that Nezumi couldn't quite identify underneath his familiar, adorable smile. He didn't have time to contemplate; Shion had picked up the slack in the conversation again, but he'd also toed off a shoe and was nudging at Nezumi's knees with his sock-clad foot.

Nezumi stuttered out a response that was coherent enough to communicate yet nowhere near his usual eloquence because Shion's foot had wedged his thighs apart and was now resting on his crotch. He'd gone from rocking a semi to being fully hard in a matter of minutes, and Shion's foot wasn't helping matters, especially when he was rubbing it so enticingly in small circles over Nezumi's shaft

The vibrator suddenly cut off, and Nezumi nearly whimpered at the loss. It was getting harder to keep up his cool and composed mask; he knew Shion could see that. Judging by Shion's dilated pupils, he was also enjoying the sight of Nezumi struggling to retain the last shreds of his self-control.

The lull in vibration lasted long enough for Nezumi to give a scathing account of the non sequiturs in the last essay he'd hard to read, but then, just as he was about to launch into a spiel about the intricacies and importance of colour combinations in stage directions, Shion flicked the vibrator back on again, to a medium setting that Nezumi was _definitely_ not used to.

At Shion's next question, Nezumi opened his mouth to speak, but a low, soft moan escaped instead. He was getting extremely close, and Shion was _not_ letting up. 

Some part of Nezumi was relieved that he'd get to come, but another part, the part that had thought it'd all just be a bit teasing, was flipping its shit about being made to orgasm in public. And the part of him found the forbidden aspect to be all the more arousing. He was, in short, a mess.

"-you feeling?"

"Ah, what?" Nezumi asked, suddenly glancing at Shion. He'd been trying to read his book to fight the haze of arousal clouding his mind.

"I asked if you were feeling okay? You seem a bit red there." 

Shion sounded innocent. _Too_ innocent.

"Y-yeah, it's just, uh. Hard passage," curse his word choice, "in this journal I'm cross-referencing with the source material."

"Need to _release_ some stress?"

Nezumi's strangled groan, equal parts aroused and exasperated, as he dropped his face to the table was answer enough. Simultaneously, Shion turned the vibrator up another level, and rubbed hard with his foot. Nezumi's entire body shuddered and his hips rocked into Shion's foot -- there was absolutely no way he could have avoided doing so as he hit orgasm.

Shion could feel Nezumi's cock twitch in his jeans as he came, and with the satisfaction of making his boyfriend release spectacularly came an unfamiliar feeling. Possessiveness? Mild sadism? Shion didn't know, but he wanted to explore it, so he mentally shelved that idea for later. 

For now, though, Shion had to make sure Nezumi was still somewhat functional. He turned down the vibrator as soon as Nezumi seemed to be done, slowly doing down one setting at a time until it was off. Then he poked Nezumi.

"Yhn, tht whsn awflln."

"What?"

"Shion, that was an awful line. Releasing stress, really?" Nezumi sat back up slowly.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?"

Nezumi's grey gaze briefly darted to his own lap, checking the damage. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Maybe you're not the only one with the entrancing voice here!"

"Nope." Nezumi slid his book into his backpack and stood up. "Anyways. May I extend an invitation to his majesty to visit my humble abode?"

"I accept your invitation, my, uh, Nezumi!" Shion replied then drained his expresso like his mouth was a black hole. He quickly packed up and caught Nezumi's hand as they walked out of the café.

They walked quietly for a block, though Shion couldn't help but notice Nezumi's awkward gait, which was such a deviation from his normal nimble movements that Shion would have been amused if he wasn't so turned on.

"Was I obvious?"

"Um. The music covered a lot of the sounds you made, and it was only really noticeable toward the end."

Although he was basking in the afterglow, Nezumi hadn't failed to notice the hungry spark in Shion's eyes back in the café when Shion realised he fully controlled Nezumi's pleasure. So he anticipated exactly how Shion would react when he responded with a sly smirk.

"Guess I'll have to be more quiet next time, hm?"

Nezumi grinned at Shion's sudden blush and widened eyes, the very picture of innocence. The coiled snake concealed under the flower, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3:30 and I have not proofread this :3


	25. if you tickle us, do we not laugh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Smiles/Laughter
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Being sick is like,,,ultimate writers' block.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Modern high school AU! In which Shion's mom runs a wildly successful bakery, Shion is a nerd at the top of their high school, Nezumi's past is a lot less fucked up, and they're childhood friends!
> 
> Title from _The Merchant of Venice_ , act 3 scene 1

"Ugh, would ya stop blabbering on about that rat and his melodic clear laugh like a bubbling brook, or whatever. Like, shit, if you wanted to make him laugh, just tickle the bastard! Make him choke on his own guffaws for all I care!"

Inukashi gesticulated wildly as they finally, finally interrupted Shion's ramble about Nezumi's laugh. Shion was special and Inukashi liked walking with him, so they put up with his strange fascination with a certain annoying actor, but there was only so much a person could take.

"Sorry, I j-"

"Nah, don't worry, you're good. Just, fuck, tone down your raging boner for his voice a bit, yeah? TMI."

"But I don't-"

"Exaggeration for effect."

"Oh."

"…aaaaaanyways, 'later. Don’t get run over while distracted by that guy," Inukashi said as they reached the animal shelter. "Oh, you're going to message me your notes tonight, right?"

"Mmhm! Have fun with the dogs!"

And then Shion was alone for the short one-block walk from the shelter to his mother's bakery. He walked quickly, pretty sure that Nezumi was probably already in there, eagerly devouring one of his mom's pastries. Knowing Nezumi, he'd have headed over to the bakery as soon as he could get out of school; Nezumi always did that if he and Shion planned to hang out after class.

When he got to the bakery, Shion slipped in through the back entrance and peeked into the shop to see if Nezumi was there. Though the bakery was bustling, he could easily spot Nezumi's short and spiky ponytail, smushed upward against the back wall of the bakery, where he sat, a book in one hand and a cupcake in the other. 

Shion couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. Still smiling, he popped his head into the kitchen to wave at his mom and let her know he was home. He was about to head into the front of the store to get Nezumi, but just then, he looked up from his book, and grey eyes met red. Nezumi shut his book, slid it into his bag, and glided over to Shion as he finished off his cupcake.

"Hey."

"Hi, Nezumi! Did you actually get notes of your own this time, or are you just going to leech off of mine?" Shion teased as they headed up the two flights of stairs to his room.

"The usual, of course. Why would I deign to remove myself from Wilde if I have you? As a wise person once said, never do something yourself if you can get others to do it for you at no cost."

"You just made that up, didn't you."

"Maybe." An infuriating smirk.

Shion just sighed and tugged his friend into his room. He wished Nezumi would actually pay attention in class, because the only reason Nezumi wasn't excelling was due to sheer apathy.

After getting settled, Shion shared his notes, and they fell into the rhythm of studying, quiet but for occasional questions and explanations, and the rustling of papers.

And then Nezumi flopped backward onto Shion's bed with a groan, his spiral notebook splayed over his face.

Shion looked away from his desk and over his shoulder. "Nezumi?" 

"O, I die, Horatio. This potent algebra quite o'ercrows my spirit! I cannot live to-"

Shion stifled a laugh, because Nezumi's remixes of classical literature to fit the situation were always amusing. He poked Nezumi in the abdomen to get his attention, making the other boy's breath hitch in the middle of his sentence.

Nezumi curled up into a sitting position as he swatted Shion's hand away from his body. The notebook fell from his face and he aimed a flat glare at him. “Shion. Why.”

There was no response from Shion, because he was too distracted by Nezumi's little gasp. It'd sounded like he was trying to…not make a sound? Not to laugh?

Suddenly, Inukashi's casually dropped comment about tickling Nezumi made a lot more sense. Experimentally, he poked Nezumi's side, then wiggled his fingers against Nezumi's skin.

Nezumi's face twisted, then a wheezed laugh escaped him, and Shion was struck with a rush of victory. He clambered onto the bed, both hands going toward Nezumi's sides to tickle him and draw more breathless sounds from him.

Something warm ballooned in Shion's chest and made him feel like he was floating, made his heartbeat quicken. Nezumi was squirming on the bed, laughing madly, and though his flailing was frantic and uncoordinated, there was still something…elegant about his laugh.

"Ah, Shi- _shion_ , stop tha _hahaha!_ "

Shion didn't stop. Nezumi's halfhearted protests were strangely adorable, and Shion was currently caught in of his bouts of spontaneity.

Then shaky hands grasped his wrists and tugged, a knee dug into his side, and Shion was suddenly on his back with Nezumi towering over him. His ponytail had come undone and his hair was obscuring his face, but Shion could see the way his intense grey eyes glinted.

Nezumi's hands slid up Shion's shirt and danced along Shion's sides. Their positions were thoroughly reversed; it was now Shion's turn to writhe helplessly beneath the nimble fingers torturing his ticklish sides.

He clenched his eyes shut and swatted at Nezumi's hands, pleads for him to stop slipping from his lips amidst the unstoppable giggles. 

And then suddenly Shion was free from the agile fingers dancing over his sides, and Nezumi's weight was off of him. He was still trying to catch his breath when the bedroom door slammed and Nezumi's footsteps retreated down the hall. 

Shion sat up and waited, idly flicking at a few flashcards on his desk. He didn't really need them, and, to be honest, his eidetic memory meant he only took thorough notes because of his friends -- there was a certain feeling he got from teaching Nezumi that he didn't know how to define as anything but pleasant.

A few minutes passed, and Shion grew a bit worried. He was about to go find Nezumi when the door opened and Nezumi walked in, face red and strands of damp hair sticking to his cheeks.

Concern immediately overtook Shion. "…are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Are you mad at me?"

"What? No! Granted, you ruined my flawless impression of a dying man, and then nearly made me suffocate, but-"

"You're saying Hamlet died of algebra?"

Nezumi laughed again, though the sound was back to a slightly sarcastic snicker, no longer unhindered like before.

"There you go, your majesty, missing the point as always. Anyways, I, for one, am done studying. Want to run that scene, see how it's actually performed?"

"Sure!"

Watching Nezumi attempt to act as both characters who were interacting with each other, Shion realised that he didn't really need to try to make Nezumi laugh more -- Nezumi was already so relaxed around him that he shouldn't try to change him, even though Shion would never stop treasuring those few moments of Nezumi's pure and unrestrained laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Nezumi. You really didn't expect that having your adorable best friend squirming under you would have such an effect, hm. You dared underestimate the power of teenage hormones. 
> 
> how dare u


	26. 'twere the mirror up to nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: Mirror Sex
> 
> (because an alter ego could be a mirror(ed) self, right?)
> 
> The chapter in which modern high school AU Nezumi is really fucking weird.
> 
> Title from _Hamlet_ , act 3 scene 2

You'd just finished with your performance, and are halfway done with changing -- just a bit more Nezumi than Eve -- when she approaches you.

She's still in her classic gown, long and white, elegant despite its lack of ornamentation, and it floats along the floor as she glided toward where you are sitting on a bench, twisting your hair into its usual ponytail. Her dark blueish hair and eyeliner accentuate her captivating grey eyes, half-lidded in invitation.

A flirtatious smirk, and then, still wordlessly, her lips are on yours.

Your name is Nezumi, and you're currently kissing your alter ago in a back room of your local youth theatre. How high are you even?

Her tacky lipstick smears on your lips, the softness behind them so different from the firmness of a tube of lipstick, and you kiss back. 

Whatever. You'll just roll with it, even though it's pretty fucking weird; it's so absurd you're pretty sure she can't harm you, because you're probably just, you don't know, hallucinating or something. Besides, you're a horny teenager, which, in itself, should be reason enough.

She's you, so of course she's just as aggressive with her kissing, and before long, your tongues are sliding against each other and she's clambered into your lap. Your hands settle on her hips to steady her (and yourself), and you're relieved to find that they're as bony and angular as yours. 

Somehow, the idea of making out with yourself in costume is perfectly acceptable. You chalk it up to a strange form of narcissism and leave it at that. It's just an extended masturbation technique, yeah.

You lean back against the wall as she squeezes even closer to you. Your hair cascades down your own shoulders, having fallen out of the halfhearted ponytail you'd been interrupted while trying to tie, and hers curtains your chest. 

A quick tug of Eve's hair reveals to you that it's not a wig, which is...bizarre. It really should be a wig -- you'd know, you _wear_ that wig for that look -- but you're distracted from contemplating that any further when she rocks her hips against yours.

You're still in your tight, thin boxers, so there's basically nothing to dull the sensation to your dick. Startled, you moan, and buck up against her.

She's hard too, which you expect. If nothing else, you know how to make yourself feel good. Deciding _oh, to hell with it_ , you grasp her hips and pull her against you, grinding against her. You don't bother being gentle, like you would with Shion; it's just you, after all, and you often like it rough.

"You'd better not get this dress dirty, that's just gross," she comments, sounding way too fucking composed for the situation. You're...actually kind of annoying, now that you think about it. Hot, but a dick -- just the way you like it.

"I fucking know, it's mine too," you retort shortly, not in the mood to deal with your own sass. You're just attempting to figure out how to get her dress off when it disappears in a flash. Okay. That works.

Underneath it, she's got on a practical white camisole over her fake boobs, which, hm, seem softer than when you wore them. You grab them and squeeze, and her voice cracks from the feminine pitch she'd affected to something more familiar -- not _your_ voice, exactly, but definitely masculine.

Her grinding gets more desperate, legs on either side of your hips as the two of you rock together. Gasps and barely-suppressed moans slip from your lips; you can't be sure of what exactly you're saying, whether it's your own name or Shion's or some incomprehensible nonsense. You feel your arousal coiling tight as the pace increases, along with the annoying tapping on your shoulder, which is shaking your entire body more than the person on top of you.

The tapping turns into a punch and a frustrated shout of your name, and everything shatters. By that, you do not mean you hit climax. 

You jerk awake.

The first thing you see is white, fluffy hair. Shion.

The first thing you realise is that your dick is definitely pressing against his leg, and your hands are squeezing his ass.

Slowly, you remove yourself a bit from him, awkwardness heavy in the air. It hits you that you've been getting off on your boyfriend in his bed while having one hell of a bizarre wet dream about yourself.

"I didn't want you to get ejaculate on my sheets!" Shion blurts out, out of nowhere, and you just sort of gape at him. Is that really his first objection to this whole fiasco?

You have no idea how to regain your composure, so you go with your typical snark. "Really?" you ask, flashing what you hope is a seductive smirk. 

It doesn't work, because your hair is clinging to your face from sweat, and you're horrendously flushed from both embarrassment and the lingering arousal from the dream that just won't go away.

"Not if I didn't cause you to!" he exclaims, indignant.

"Technically, you were involved. Very physically so," you say, then pause. "Shion. Did I say anything...?"

"Eve." Somehow, Shion manages to convey a hint of jealousy in that one word, though why he'd be jealous, you couldn't guess. Eve _is_ you, he's well aware of that, but. Wow. The fact that you nearly got off to your acting persona is...beyond weird.

"Fuck." 

The word slips from your lips unbidden, and it's such a far cry from the sardonic retort you'd usually give that you shut your eyes in self-consciousness and exasperation.

A giggle slips from him as he pokes you in the nose. "I guess when you said that everyone finds you, Eve, attractive, you weren't excluding yourself."

You roll to bury your face in the unoccupied part of the pillow, hiding your burning face in the cool material. Your cock is throbbing against the sheets, and you really need to take care of that soon, but for now, you're just going to try to wait out Shion's amusement.

(He doesn't have to wait long because Shion doesn't hesitate to make a move.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I know, this is the first fic tagged selfcest in this fandom :D


	27. graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: Temperature Play
> 
> modern au because that's fluffier!
> 
> tw: underage? (it's a young teen having _thoughts_.
> 
> Title from _Venus and Adonis_

Shion should not be allowed to eat cinnamon buns, Nezumi decided. There was nothing _wrong_ , per se, with Shion enjoying the sweet pastry, it was just that it was messy and Shion seemed to enjoy it a bit _too_ much; he'd take large bites of it with his usual enthusiasm and get the sticky syrup all over his fingers, and then he'd _lick. them. clean._

For Nezumi, who'd stumbled upon descriptions of certain sexual acts a few weeks ago, this was nigh on unbearable. He felt gross about it, but he couldn't suppress his mental comparisons between his best friend's innocent finger-licking and the rather overwrought blowjob scenes he'd read.

 _'Licking off sticky substances off fingers?'_ check.

 _'Small noises of satisfaction?'_ check.

 _'Wide-eyed glances?'_ check and- _oh. Shit_. Shion was looking right at him, concerned.

"Nezumi, are you okay? You're looking a bit red, are you sick?"

"No, 'm fine." Nezumi said, pretty damn sure his expression as tried to will his blush away made him look seriously constipated. It was awful, but the fact that Shion was leaning toward him was worse.

"You sure? If you have a fever, you really shouldn't stay in school, hey, let me check your temperature!" And before Nezumi would object, Shion leaned forward and nudged their foreheads together.

Nezumi froze. Shion's face looked funny this close, but as Nezumi's eyes refocused, he could see the way Shion’s eyes were narrowed in concentration and the way Shion's lips, light pink and so fucking soft-looking, were slightly pouted in concentration.

There was a smear of sugary glaze at the corner of Shion's mouth, and Nezumi suddenly wanted nothing more than to lick it off. The idea shot through his mind like a bolt of lightning, but nowhere near as ephemeral. He couldn’t purge it from his thoughts, and it sank through his body to pool low in his

He ripped himself away from Shion, nearly falling out of his seat in the process. If his face had been blazing before, it was now brighter than the fucking sun, and Shion was _not_ helping.

“I’m sure I’m fine!” Nezumi all but screeched, then added, “that was just me freaking out because I just remembered I have a worksheet to turn in immediately after lunch, and I haven’t started, so I have to, um, run to my locker and get that right the fuck now.”

Nezumi knew that Shion would find something _off_ about that flimsy excuse, but by the time Shion came to his senses, Nezumi was already gone, dashing out of the lunchroom and into the hallway. Ugh, fuck. He _hated_ his teenage mind.


	28. and breathed such life with kisses in my lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: Swallowing
> 
> Shion...those are Unconventional medical practices...
> 
> (I'm projecting, haha)
> 
> Title from _Romeo and Juliet_ , act 5 scene 1

Getting sick was the worst possible thing that could happen, especially in the week before midterms. Nezumi's head hadn't been quite clear enough for him to get in any proper studying for the past few days, and despite knowing that he needed to review, the dizziness that came with focusing prevented him from doing so. 

His head felt heavy, he was freezing, and his throat was uncomfortably scratchy and raw. He wanted nothing more than to sleep the day away and pretend he had precisely zero obligations, so he drew the covers up to cover his nose, hoping that warm air would help with congestion, and shut his eyes.

He would have fallen asleep, but for Shion barging into their dorm room. Nezumi groggily opened one eye and glared at him, but the effect was ruined by how puffy his eyes were, and by Shion's obliviousness.

"Good afternoon, Nezumi! How're you feeling?"

Nezumi loved Shion's voice, really, but his boyfriend was just too damn cheery for how morose he was feeling. He yanked the sheets over his head and hid from the ray of sunlight that was Shion.

"Alive," he grumbled, sounding a far cry from his usual smooth tenor. Right now, if someone had asked him to act as a stumbling, drunk, 40-year old ex-smoker, he could have pulled it off perfectly.

Shion laughed at his cynical response, not at all put off by the terseness; he knew how Nezumi got when he wasn't feeling well. The rustling from near the desk continued, joined by a series of clicking sounds, and then the covers were ripped away from Nezumi's face.

The light hit Nezumi's eyes (owwww, Shion, was that really necessary?) and Shion insistently held a cup to his lips. Nezumi sniffed, and through his stuffy nose, he could vaguely detect the scent of artificial grape

He turned his head. The cup followed his mouth. He groaned, then sacrificed some of his precious warmth reaching out to grab Shion’s wrist and hold the cup of that foul fluid away from his mouth.

“Can you _not_ ,” rasped Nezumi.

“Nope!” came the cheery response. Shion tried the exact same thing a few more times and Nezumi kept resisting until Shion gave up with a frown and turned around.

A smile of satisfaction graced Nezumi’s lips. Victory.

Nezumi was just about to wriggle back underneath the covers again when Shion suddenly swooped in toward his face and kissed him. Out of surprise – and a bit of instinct, Nezumi guessed – he parted his lips.

And a surge of sugary, bitter fluid rushed into his mouth. The medication.

Nezumi tried to shove Shion off, but all the time he’d spent teaching Shion how to fight had paid off, Shion had him pinned helplessly on his back. (It could’ve also been because Nezumi had tucked his hands into his pockets for extra warmth, and was weak from being sick, but Nezumi wanted to be proud of his boyfriend, okay.)

Shion’s tongue darted into Nezumi’s mouth, which was nice, but it forced Nezumi’s lips to remain open and made him unable to stop the descent of the foul liquid to the back of his mouth. It slid down his tongue, disgustingly slimy, awfully bitter, and when it hit his soft palate, he couldn’t do anything but swallow.

As soon as he swallowed – Shion must have felt his throat working or something – he was released from the lip-lock. He gasped for air and then started coughing, because apparently his body was awful and did not want to let him breathe.

With a look of slight guilt on his face, Shion helped him sit up and hunch over until the coughing fit passed.

“Why.” Nezumi said, the interrogative like a statement. He wanted to sound more dramatic, but all that came out was a strained, breathy wheeze.

“Sorry about having to do that, but you weren’t going to take your medicine otherwise,” Shion stated, matter-of-factly, eyes trained analytically on Nezumi as if checking him over.

“I feel betrayed. You’re awful.”

“But you love me!”

“Yeah. I do,” Nezumi conceded. He’d just blame his words on the drugs later, he thought, as he flopped back onto the bed and wrapped himself in the sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shion you reckless fool, you're going to catch sick too if you carry on like that


End file.
